Heralds of the Fall - The False Sith

[wangxiuming]

Hi everybody! I’ve been working on a piece of Star Wars: The Old Republic fanfiction for a few months now, and thought I’d chance an attempt at sharing it. I’ve loved writing for a long time and have been trying hard to get better at it. To that end I welcome any comments, suggestions or criticisms you might have.

 

Heralds of the Fall is set after the “Shadow of Revan” expansion storyline, but before the “Rise of the Emperor” game update. The story takes place on Ziost, centers on a Kaggath being fought between two Darths, and focuses on the perspectives of the underlings caught up in the battle between their masters.

 

The characters are all original, though there are occasionally some subtle references to events that occur in the main storylines of the SWTOR class stories. If there was anything that needed to be researched, I used wookiepedia.com, though if I got anything wrong, please let me know! The storyline is mostly finished, but I will endeavor to correct what I can. As of now, I’m estimating to release the entire story by October 20, 2015 the Early Access release date of Knights of the Fallen Empire.

 

As fair warning, this story features scenes containing violence (subjectively, I would consider it on par with the Clone Wars tv show) and the occasional swear (nothing too inappropriate though). There are also minor SPOILERS for the Sith Inquisitor and Sith Warrior class stories, so please be careful!

 

Companion art pieces can be found here.

 

Heralds of the Fall - The False Sith

 

 

Part One: Pretender

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Part Two: Heretic

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

 

Part Three: Dead Ringer

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

 

Part Four: Hypocrite

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

 

Part Five: Impostor

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

 

Epilogue

 

 

Thank you for reading!

Edited July 11, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Part One: Pretender

 

Chapter 1

 

3637 BBY

 

Unique, every time. The way the energy rippled from his fingertips, almost as though it were alive - a living, breathing, surge of electricity that would spiral out of control were it not for his direction, his superior willpower, nudging it gently through the Force and into his victim.

 

He felt it pour into her. Others might’ve focused on the light emanating from the pureblood’s lightning-racked body, or perhaps the sound of the woman’s screams as the pain overwhelmed her. Not him. He didn’t see his victim crumple to the floor, didn’t hear the sound of her lightsaber fall uselessly to the cold stone beneath them. No, all he could feel was their spirits, bound and connected by the power he brought to bear. There was no other feeling that could match this exhilaration: to hold another’s life in the palm of your hand.

 

Suddenly, almost by reflex, he severed the connection. The pureblood woman collapsed to the ground, unmoving but alive. The crowd of Kaas citizens that had gathered around them burst into half-amused whispers, chattering like crows.

 

He did not notice. He only heard the voice of his master in his mind.

 

Lord Rend … why do you hold back?

 

* * * * *

 

10 Years Prior

 

“Pain is the least dignified method of tutelage. Wouldn’t you agree, my apprentice?”

 

Tosin wanted to respond to his master. He wanted to agree, to effuse, to exclaim with brilliant concordance whatever his master wished him to say; before he could, a jolt of lightning from the masked Darth turned all the words in his mouth to ash.

 

“N-no more,” he managed to gibber. “Forgive me, Darth Siphon, please!”

 

“There is nothing to forgive, child. Only a lesson to be taught.” The Darth’s words echoed from behind her golden mask, distorted by a voice modulator.

 

Another blast of electricity surged through his body, starting from his chest and then reverberating out to the rest of his limbs. He crumpled, knees slamming against the carpeted floor as he struggled not to keel over completely. There was a moment when Tosin thought he wouldn’t have the breath to cry out anymore, and yet the agony spurred his screams on as he spasmed helplessly in his master’s private office.

 

“Do you understand where you erred, apprentice? What you did wrong?”

 

Between gasps for air, Tosin pleaded, “I … I did as you instructed, Master. I eliminated the administrator.”

 

The Darth paced forward and back; Tosin could feel the eyes behind the mask, watching his every move, examining him for every subtle trace of deception, every tell or signal that he spoke false. “You were to end the administrator’s family as well.”

 

“I did, Master! I did!”

 

Siphon’s voice turned cold as ice even through the modulation. “ … do not lie to me.”

 

The tone of Siphon’s voice was unmistakable. His master knew what he had done. There was no use in lying, no chance of success, no hope of deception.

 

“What was your mistake, apprentice?”

 

Wincing through singed eyelids and struggling to maintain what dignity his master deigned to afford him, Tosin spoke. “I spared the daughter.”

 

The words came quickly then, quick to justify, to rationalize, to make the Darth understand. “She is not even ten years old, my lord. Her family is dead and she knows neither why or by whom. She poses no threat to you or your plans. I made sure of –”

 

Lightning blasted forward and Tosin convulsed like a rag doll made to dance by a maniacal puppeteer.

 

“You held back. You showed mercy.” Siphon’s voice echoed with contempt. “There can be no mercy, apprentice, just as there can be no peace. They are lies, designed to keep you dormant, compliant … weak.”

 

Tosin’s entire body crumpled to the floor. All he could do was nod his agreement; his voice barely broke the silence as it left his mouth. “I understand now, Master. I do.”

 

“Do you?” asked the Darth. “I’m not sure I’m convinced. I think I will need … a demonstration.”

 

“Anything, my master,” Tosin said without thinking. “Anything.”

 

* * * * *

 

3637 BBY

 

Lord Rend didn’t understand why after all this time, his natural instinct was still to stop just before hurtling over the edge. Hadn’t he proven to Darth Siphon that he had what it took? Hadn’t he quashed any last vestige of compassion, of mercy from within himself? His spirit already bore the burden of too many deplorable deeds. What was one more life to that list? Why did he still hold himself back?

 

The woman before him was a Sith, after all. The Lord Visaj, infamous for her savagery in battle against the Republic. She more than most should know the consequence of her defeat. She would not have shown him any mercy had their roles been reversed. She doubtless had committed as many atrocities as he, perhaps he might even be doing the galaxy a fa–

 

No. No. There is no need for rationalization. There is no need for justification. This is not how Sith should think. This is not how Sith should act! Peace is a lie! There is only passion! And only through total victory can my chains be broken. Only then will I be free! Free of everything!

 

Lord Rend raised his hands. Violet energy coalesced around them, crackling with erratic bursts. He had but to push forward ever so slightly … and then he watched it soar through the air, slam into Visaj’s unconscious body.

 

He watched as her crimson eyelids flew open to reveal renewed pain and horror as her entire body wracked with electricity. He watched as she screamed, piercing the air with a soul-shattering cry of despair. He watched as her eyes rolled backwards into her skull, her terrified expression permanently etched onto her face.

 

He could not help but shudder within himself, even knowing the victory he had secured for his master.

 

They were right. There is no peace. Not even in death.

 

The crowd watched for only a moment longer and then dispersed, back to their routines.

 

Lord Rend straightened his robes, pulled a hood over his raven-colored hair and left without another glance at the smoking corpse and the gathered crowd he left behind. The citizens of New Adasta were used to violence among the Sith hierarchy - the battle between Rend and Visaj would have seemed a spectacle rather than a calamity; it had been intense but brief, and left little collateral damage other than the additional scorch marks and saber-trails that now painted the market square.

 

As he departed, Imperial security forces made their way to the site. Lord Rend picked up his pace, though not because he had any fear of being arrested; at this particular moment Imperial Security served no greater function than that of janitorial staff. No, he needed to report his progress to Darth Siphon, and that necessitated a degree of privacy.

 

The buzzing of his communicator urged him to speed into an abandoned alley. Upon activating it, a cascading aquamarine image of Agent Hallian Quen appeared before him.

 

“What do you want, agent?” asked Rend, struggling to keep the impatience from seeping into his voice.

 

“I am delighted to see you’re still alive, my lord. I trust that means Lord Visaj is defeated?”

 

“Utterly,” replied Rend.

 

Quen smirked, the sniveling expression on her face evident through the holo. The auburn-haired woman was in her early thirties, boasted a freckled complexion, and possessed the build of an underfed child. Lord Rend had always found Quen much too sycophantic for his taste, but Darth Siphon had found use for her. Supposedly the sliver of a woman had been instrumental in the Darth’s ascent years ago; Rend had no choice but to offer her a measure of deference.

 

“I’ll report your success to Darth Siphon,” continued Quen. “In the meantime, she wants you to rendezvous with Lord Andora and intercept a group of mercenaries heading to the Trade District at Langxi. Coordinates and profiles are being transmitted to you now.”

 

“Objective?”

 

“It’s Darth Orthas’ hired muscle,” came the reply. “Guess.”

 

Orthas. A Sith pureblood Darth, who held the unique opinion that only the pure of blood could become true Sith: a view more extreme than even that of traditionalists among Sith society, content to allow humans into their ranks. Much of the Imperial hierarchy debated whether Orthas would join the pureblood Lord Ikoral in that Sith’s foolhardy attempt to purge the Empire of alien species, though ultimately the former decided against it. He and Siphon were diametrically opposed in every way, from Imperial politics to Dark Side philosophy. Still, violence had not erupted between their two factions until Darth Siphon had slain his most promising apprentice…

 

Orthas answered with the Kaggath.

 

“Extermination then,” said Rend. “It will be done.”

 

“My lord, you’re the only Sith I know that doesn’t sound thrilled at the prospect of wanton slaughter.” The agent chuckled at her flimsy joke before lowering her voice slightly. “By the way … have you heard? The latest rumor going around Sith Intelligence is that Orthas’ pupil managed to remove Darth Siphon’s mask and our illustrious Darth simply could not stand being seen.”

 

Rend grumbled. “Is this what Sith Intelligence trades in nowadays? Pointless rumors and idle gossip?”

 

“When it’s interesting, yes. What do you think is under that mask, anyway? A decrepit old hag? Or perhaps she simply has a terrible case of adult-onset acne.”

 

Rend’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure the Darth would appreciate these wild and pointless speculations, agent?”

 

Quen ignored him. “You know what? Maybe she’s the most stunningly beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. That could be how she’s been so successful. Every battle, she pulls off her mask, and everybody expecting to see a hideous old crone is stunned by her mesmerizing beauty.”

 

“Quen!”

 

Finally, the agent returned to her senses. “Hmm? Oh, fine. Good luck with your mission, my lord. Quen out.”

 

Rend let an exasperated grumble escape his lips as the image of Quen vanished and he tucked his communicator away.

 

Still, there was something Quen mentioned that caught his attention. The prospect that their master would kill just for being unmasked was a possibility Rend had not previously considered. Would the Darth do such a thing? He had to admit, he had been surprised to hear that Orthas’ apprentice had died at Siphon’s hands - his master was well-known for relishing and prolonging suffering, pain, and humiliation. Even had she wanted the disciple dead, she would have sent one of her underlings - perhaps Rend - to do the deed in her name, on her behalf. Murder by her own hand, particularly that of a weaker opponent, seemed out of character.

 

The possibility churned in Rend’s mind for a moment before he forcibly diverted his attention back to the task at hand. He had already wasted too much time indulging Quen’s ridiculous contemplations. He had a new mission.

 

It was time he got started.

Edited March 26, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 2

 

10 Years Prior

 

Tosin had accepted his master’s command; he would have agreed to anything, anything to make the pain stop. But now, now that he was alone, now that it was gone …

 

He found himself standing before a modest home on the outskirts of New Adasta. Here, the buildings lacked the towering magnificence of the capital, but there was a completeness about them, a sturdiness and solid feel that seemed to stand in defiance of the cityscape. After all, did these homes not protect its denizens from the rain and wind? Did they not shelter and nurture the children within as well as any skyscraper apartment could do?

 

He reached out his hand to knock on the front door, but the sound of lively conversation emanating from within gave him pause.

 

His first thought was of escape. It was always escape. That flicker of hope that told him he could flee the capital, flee the planet, start a new life somewhere free of the Sith intrigues, the Imperial hierarchies, the deadly dance of a slave’s life amongst his masters.

 

It always held for a second or two, before reality snuffed it out. There was no escape.

 

Peace is a lie. There is only passion.

 

He had no choice.

 

Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power.

 

There would be only one route to freedom.

 

Through power, victory.

 

Tosin knocked on the door before him. He heard laughter inside, followed immediately by a man’s warm and welcoming voice. “Just a moment, I’ll be right there!”

 

Through victory, my chains are broken.

 

The door swung open. “ … Tosin? Brother, is that really you?”

 

The Force shall free me.

 

Tosin activated his lightsaber and watched as the crimson light magnified the dawning horror that spread across the faces of his only brother and his family; a horror matched only by the despair he felt swallow his soul.

 

* * * * *

 

3637 BBY

The profiles Quen sent over were meticulous. Detailed biographies, thorough threat assessments of each target, and comprehensive analysis of their strengths, favored tactics, and vulnerabilities were all organized in easy-to-follow dossiers. Rend had to hand it to her; Quen excelled at her work.

 

He spent the shuttle ride to the Langxi district poring over his datapad. He knew some Sith favored the brash and brazen approach, preferring to leverage surprise and sheer viciousness to overwhelm opponents; Rend was not such a Sith. Years of studying under Darth Siphon had taught him that a well-coordinated plan often brought more success and at less cost.

 

The mercenaries his master wanted eliminated were once known as the “Dread Hunters;” Quen’s intelligence suggested they had undertaken a naming transition for obvious reasons, the similarity to the Dread Master’s forces likely an unwelcome comparison after those particular Dark Lords had betrayed the Empire. The group itself was comprised of a dozen or so bounty hunters, elite operatives, and even a few ex-Imperial Intelligence. None seemed worth the trouble of dispatching two of Siphon’s strongest disciples; at least, not until Rend came across the name Vandal Pike.

 

Pike had become moderately well-known in the last half year; there were few bounty hunters who were as well-known for their success rate on Ziost, and Pike only took on the toughest of jobs. The last bounty he brought in was for the Dark Council - a powerful Jedi Knight who posed a consistent thorn in the Council’s side. Rumor had it that Pike had challenged the Jedi to single combat … and prevailed. If any knew the details of such a capture, none yet had managed to spread the tale.

 

The bounty hunter was an all around mystery. Much like Rend’s master, none had ever seen the man’s face. Rend briefly wondered why that was.

 

Regardless, it made sense then, that Siphon would want to deny her opponent Pike’s service. Rend only wished his master had sent someone other than Lord Andora to join him. The twi’lek warrior reveled in bloodshed and butchery; that in itself might not have constituted a weakness, but his tendency to rely on brute force and refusal to comply with any arrangement that called for subtlety often precluded the execution of any coordinated effort.

 

Rend had no choice in the matter though; choice of partners was a luxury that could not be afforded during a Kaggath.

 

He arrived dutifully at the rendezvous point, a small commercial hub just south of the target coordinates Quen had provided. Adjusting his loose-fitting robes slightly to compensate for the four hour ride, he made his way to a nondescript market. The sun was just beginning to cross the horizon; Andora had already arrived, pacing restlessly as he waited, crimson lekku swaying slightly against the breeze that had picked up over Langxi. The twi’lek wore similarly dark robes over a flexible suit of plasteel armor, tinted black with shades of red. Some might have found the look imposing, though Rend was not impressed.

 

“About time. I was beginning to think you had fallen to Visaj,” greeted Andora impatiently.

 

Rend ignored him. “Looks like they’ve set up a makeshift headquarters at one of Orthas’ estates. If we infiltr--”

 

“Forget that. I just watched the whole gang strut into the local cantina. We’ll catch these Dread Guard knockoffs by surprise and massacre everything alive.”

 

Andora’s intentions were as expected, but the twi’lek’s insistence on a direct approach was nevertheless aggravating. Rend struggled to keep his voice calm - better to save his anger for their enemies. “Andora. Our master would not have sent the pair of us if we were dealing with just any band of mercenaries.”

 

“Is that it?” Andora sneered. “I waited for you out of courtesy, Rend, but I’ve no need to offer respect to a coward. Come with me or no, I’m going to finish this.”

 

Even as Rend shouted “Wait!” the twi’lek had already whirled around and sprang into motion. Unable to deter his partner from proceeding and unwilling to sacrifice the advantage of another Sith at his side, Rend had no choice but to follow.

 

* * * * *

 

10 Years Prior

 

“Brother … Tosin … what are you doing?”

 

Tears welled up in Tosin’s eyes, his grip on his lightsaber flimsy and shaking. “I’m sorry, Torio. I’m so sorry! I don’t have a choice!”

 

Torio fell to his knees, careful to stay as far away from the humming blade of light as he could. “Yes you do, Brother! Please, don’t do this!”

 

Tosin shook his head. “If I don’t … she’ll find out. She’ll find me, and kill me. It’s you or me … and I d-don’t want to d-die …” There was a pause, as Tosin struggled to keep his vision clear, glancing from Torio to his wife - Tosin’s sister-in-law, Yaraline - and back again.

 

It was Yaraline who broke the silence, her voice cold as stone. “ … you coward.”

 

The accusation took Tosin by surprise. Coward? It wasn’t his fault … he didn’t … he couldn’t … is that really what he was?

 

“Yara,” said Torio, shooting his wife a pleading look.

 

“No, Torio. He is a coward. He’s willing to … to do whatever he’s about to do, just to save his own sorry hide. It’s pathetic. It’s disgusting!”

 

More than her words, it was her tone that sparked the fire in Tosin. That sound of judgment, of contempt … what right did she have to say these things? She had no idea what he had been through, the tortures he had endured, the suffering that consumed almost every waking moment of his life! How dare she judge him?

 

Embrace the anger, apprentice. Do not hold it back.

 

“Tosin, NO!”

 

But it was too late. He sailed through the air, gripping his lightsaber more tightly than he had ever done before.

 

* * * * *

 

3637 BBY

 

They reached the cantina in minutes; it stood at least three stories, and was abuzz with activity. Night had fallen, and it seemed the bar was a favorite spot of the locals just getting off their shifts. Rend noted most of the patrons were human; it was to be expected among this part of the planet. Racial diversity was not a pressing concern for a culture that valued only specific races and - perhaps more tellingly - enslaved others.

 

The twi’lek Sith didn’t stop for a moment before striding into the cantina and demanded the attention of their quarry, all hope of stealth or subtlety thrown to the wind.

 

“Dread Hunters … my master demands your extermination!”

 

Rend’s only signal that his partner intended to begin combat was the gush of Andora’s lightsaber extending. At the sight, most of the civilians and cantina staff dove for the nearest possible shelter; Andora didn’t wait for confirmation before moving to strike down any who remained standing.

 

The cantina exploded in a cacophony of blaster bolts as the Dread Hunters pulled out their weapons and began firing. Rend didn’t bother activating his own blade, choosing instead to leap up to one of the interior balconies overlooking the rest of the bar in an effort to get a better vantage point and pinpoint the greatest threat: Vandal Pike.

 

Fortunately, Andora had drawn all the attention of their enemies. Even sporting armor, the twi’lek sailed through the air with furious intent, his movements so quick that Rend could barely keep up with them; what Rend did see hinted at smatterings of both Ataru and Juyo, deftly transitioned and expertly executed. One by one, Andora cut down the mercenaries with swift strikes of his lightsaber, pausing only to fall into Soresu to better deflect incoming blaster fire.

 

Lord Rend briefly contemplated summoning a force storm to aid the battle, but decided Andora had things well in hand. He refocused his own efforts on locating Pike, but the notorious bounty hunter was nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, his partner had almost cut down every single mercenary - and doubtless a few innocent bystanders - foolish enough to have remained standing.

 

Could Quen have been wrong? Perhaps Pike had never been with these mercenaries … or perhaps he had remained at Orthas’ makeshift stronghold.

 

The answer came quickly enough as a jetpack sprang to life with a roar and a missile launcher ejected a deadly explosive aimed straight at Andora. The twi’lek Sith leaped out of the way in the nick of time, only to be forced instantly on the defensive with a hail of rapid fire blaster shots from above.

 

Rend recognized the black skull painted on the bounty hunter’s armor from Agent Quen’s profiles: it was Pike. He watched as Pike hovered in midair just below his position on the interior balcony, covered from head to toe in heavy armor and sporting a whirring jetpack, still unleashing a relentless assault of energy bolts. He realized that Pike must have taken shelter the moment Andora made his announcement, doubtless to better assess the situation, just as Rend would have done had he been in the same situation.

 

He didn’t have the time to offer unspoken adulations to his enemy, however; Pike’s assault had taken Andora by surprise and it was clear Rend’s partner favored being on offense rather than on defense. Rend was no master duelist and even he could see the sloppy movements and unnecessary openings that began to reveal themselves in Andora’s stance. Rend needed to provide an opportunity for Andora to regain his momentum.

 

A surge of electricity crackled to life in his hand; just as he prepared to fling it at Pike’s hovering form below him however, the bounty hunter somehow anticipated the attack, whirling around and firing a miniature rocket at Rend’s position. “Not gonna happen,” said Pike, his voice distorted through his heavy metal helmet.

 

Rend barely managed convert the electricity in his hand to a static barrier, absorbing all the kinetic energy of the missile; the smell of smoke and fire assailed his nostrils as the explosion whipped harmlessly about him.

 

Had Pike known Rend’s position all along? … how had he known Rend was about to strike?

 

As the smoke dissipated Rend launched himself into motion, strafing the balcony while flinging bolts of lightning towards the bounty hunter, narrowly missing every time as Pike dodged mid-flight, defiant and nonchalant.

 

“Fool!” shouted Andora. “I’ll tear you limb from limb! You won’t survive this contest!”

 

Though Rend’s attacks had failed, they still provided the opening his partner needed to regain the offensive. Already, the twi’lek had taken to the air, crimson blade readied to deal the fatal blow. Before it could connect, more blaster fire from the only remaining mercenary forced Andora down. A furious wail hissed out of Andora’s mouth as he instantly redirected his attention to his latest attacker, a man who too late chose an attempt to escape. In one swift motion, the twi’lek had severed the mercenary in half from shoulder to waist.

 

The distraction had left Andora vulnerable, however, and Rend saw Vandal Pike prepare to seize his opportunity. Rend likely had only one chance to save his companion; he flung a rapid charge of lightning towards Pike; finally, this one connected. More importantly, it disrupted one of the stabilizers on Pike’s jetpack, causing the bounty hunter to spin wildly out of control in the air.

 

Rend could almost taste their victory.

 

Before either he or Andora could capitalize upon what they thought was a helpless Vandal Pike incapacitated in the air, the bounty hunter somehow managed to unstrap himself from his jetpack.The machine whirled about in the air for a few more seconds before colliding with the ceiling and exploding, showering the cantina below with shrapnel. Freed from that deathtrap, Pike fell, simultaneously launching a series of tracer missiles at both Rend and Andora and then igniting the rocket boost in his boots to stabilize his landing.

 

The twi’lek managed to dodge out of the way, but the last tracer following Rend slammed into the wall beside him too close for him to evade and too fast for him to summon the Force to defend himself. The explosion knocked Rend off his feet and hurled him to the ground floor uncushioned. He heard his own body’s collision with the earth before he felt the pain erupt everywhere.

 

“Sorry, friends. Today’s just not your day,” Pike said, half-chuckling.

 

Stunned and barely conscious, Rend could only watch what happened next. Andora appeared out of nowhere, flying through the air like a hawk ready to seize upon its prey, blade whistling as though it too surged with adrenaline. Just as the crimson beam seemed about to reach its target, suddenly, it stopped dead in its tracks. Another blade of vibrating light erupted with a thrum, golden and brilliant, blocking the crimson saber’s path.

 

The bounty hunter had a lightsaber.

 

Rend struggled to recover, even as he watched the duel between Vandal Pike and Lord Andora unfold. Red and yellow light danced around the cantina as the duelists’ blades clashed, hissing as they collided against each other. Rend half-expected Andora to overwhelm Pike immediately but as the seconds drew on, it became abundantly clear that Pike’s saber skills were anything but ordinary. Blow for blow, slash for slash, Vandal Pike matched Andora’s attacks, deftly parrying every single strike with variants of Makashi and Shien.

 

The bounty hunter had been trained to use a lightsaber.

 

“What was that you were saying earlier about a contest? And here I was thinking this was going to be a challenge.”

 

His Ataru and Juyo unable to piercee Pike’s defenses, Andora turned instead to the Force, summoning it with furious intent to slam Pike backwards into a wall of the cantina. The Bounty Hunter had anticipated this, however. As Andora unleashed his attack, Pike launched a grappling hook from his wristpiece; it snagged itself around the twi’lek’s belt.

 

The Force slammed the bounty hunter backwards and into the wall. Protected in his armor, Pike seemed to barely notice. Instead, he retracted the grapple, jerking Andora forward with violent speed; simultaneously Pike pointed his still active lightsaber straight into the path of Andora’s forward momentum, the tip aimed for the twi’lek’s throat, the distance between them rapidly shrinking.

 

There was no time to think. Still on the floor with barely the strength to lift his arms much less his body, Rend slammed his open palm towards the pair. The Force collided with Andora, so violently that it snapped Pike’s wrist cable and hurled Andora into the opposite wall. The twi’lek hit cold stone with a thud and then fell to the floor, unmoving save for the shallow dips and crests of his breath.

 

Rend had no time to consider whether his actions had saved Andora or not; he only knew that Vandal Pike would be coming after him next. The bounty hunter had already stepped in his direction. Knowing he had only seconds, Rend dug both his hands into the ground, commanding the Force once more to do his will. Moments later, the whole building began to groan as the earth beneath them all quaked with tremendous force. Pillars and sections of the balcony began to come apart, crashing down, destroying what remained of the furniture and decor within and crushing the corpses that lay strewn about in every corner of the building..

 

“Guess I won’t object if you want to bury yourselves alive.” Vandal Pike turned tail and ran.

 

The building already on the verge of imploding upon itself, Rend turned to keeping himself alive. He debated for a second leaving Andora to his fate, but the prospect of having to face Pike again - and without an ally - did not sit well with him; reaching into the Force once more, he weaved a barrier above both himself and the unconscious twi’lek across the room. The effort to repel falling debris exhausted every last ounce of his strength; before he could be certain the aftershocks had ended, he felt the world spin as everything before him faded to black.

Edited March 26, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 3

 

3637 BBY

Lord Rend woke with a start, an audible groan escaping his lips as the memory of pain became once more a reality. He lay in a medical bed, his surroundings familiar; he recognized the cold and grim medical quarter of Darth Siphon’s stronghold; he had spent much time here, especially while training with his master.

 

Beside him on a separate bed lay Andora. The twi’lek was naked from the waist up, the rise and fall of his broad chest the only sign that he remained alive. Rend was glad, if only because it meant he had at least succeeded at something during their battle with Pike. Unfortunately, he doubted Siphon would count saving Andora as a victory, especially when she learned that Vandal Pike had escaped.

 

Vandal Pike. Just what manner of bounty hunter was he? In all his time serving Darth Siphon, Rend had never seen a non-force sensitive wield a lightsaber with such finesse. It seemed almost impossible that a bounty hunter of his notoriety could have acquired such a skill without word of it spreading around. Quen’s dossiers had completely omitted that detail, and though Rend might have found the agent distasteful, the woman’s reports were usually thorough and accurate to the tee.

 

Rend remained in his bed for a few moments before restlessness overtook him. Gently easing himself up, he found he could sit with only mild discomfort. He decided to gingerly stand up. Just as he determined he was able to walk, he heard the sound of fluttering robes come through the door. His master had arrived.

 

He instantly regretted bowing as he felt pain seize both his back and his gut; nevertheless, he managed to return to a standing position with a modicum of dignity. “My lord.”

 

“Well done, Lord Rend. The Dread Hunters are no more, and Darth Orthas is denied their service in this fool’s game of a Kaggath.”

 

The Darth’s tone sounded almost congratulatory. “My lord? I … offer my sincerest apologies – “

 

Darth Siphon laughed. “Apologies? You don’t mean what happened to Andora? I suspect he put himself squarely in his current predicament. No, the important thing is you managed to eliminate Vandal Pike.”

 

Rend tried to hide his surprise. Vandal Pike was dead? But …

 

“Quen reports they found his body crushed so badly in the wreckage that it was unrecognizable. They had to run genetic verification to confirm, but it’s come back with a match. Pike is dead, and I no longer need worry about my agents and soldiers being taken in on Orthas’ bounties.”

 

Pike had been crushed? Did he not manage to escape? It was true that by the end of their confrontation, Rend had been more concerned with self preservation than the whereabouts of the bounty hunter, but he didn’t think he would have missed slaying his opponent - not with how connected to the Force he had been in the last moments of their battle.

 

“You’re sure, my lord Siphon? I –” he paused, correcting himself. “What I mean to say is Vandal Pike was a formidable opponent. I almost can’t believe we succeeded.”

 

Darth Siphon paused for a moment; then, cold laughter emanated forth from behind her golden mask. “You are growing paranoid, apprentice. I trust Quen, and she tells me the genetics are confirmed. Vandal Pike is no more. Your accomplishments grow with every passing day.”

 

Pike is dead. Something did not sit right with Rend about that claim: after their battle together, it seemed implausible that the bounty hunter could have been dispatched so easily by something as mundane as stray debris. Still, he loathed to contradict his master when she seemed in such a good mood. He learned long ago that it often did not pay to interrupt Siphon’s moments of reverie.

 

The sound of a Quen’s voice being broadcast over the intercom interrupted Rend’s thoughts. “My lords. We are receiving an incoming transmission from Darth Orthas.”

 

“This will be interesting,” said Siphon, glancing at Rend knowingly for a moment. “I’ll take it here, agent.”

 

“As you wish, Darth.”

 

Rend could almost swear he saw his master quiver with anticipation at the thought of announcing their victory to her most hated rival.

 

Within seconds, the holoprojector sitting atop the nearby desk began to buzz. Siphon hit a few buttons to conjure the shimmering cerulean image of Darth Orthas.

 

The sith pureblood wore traditional ritualistic robes. A master of the Dark Side, Orthas was well known for preferring sith sorcery over lightsaber combat in duels. Nevertheless, he had not neglected his physical training; the pureblood was massively built and emanated strength in every possible way. Rend could not help but notice that Siphon seemed a child by comparison.

 

If Siphon was intimidated, she did not show it. “Darth Orthas. To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you come to thank me for purging your ranks of a non-pureblood infection? Imagine my surprise when I discovered non-purebloods in your service.”

 

“I have no objection to mongrel blood serving me, Siphon. I merely believe that you and your filth are unfit to call yourselves Sith.”

 

Siphon laughed. “And yet it seems I am the victorious one this day. Your allies fall, while my power base grows only stronger.”

 

“You think I care if I lose a few bounty hunters?” Orthas asked with derision. “ … things aren’t going as well for you as you might believe. I intercepted your transmissions to Darths Ruinate and Miro.”

 

Siphon did not respond, though Rend noticed his right hand clenched into a fist.

 

“I’m afraid I must inform you that they will not be joining your cause in the Kaggath.”

 

“You had them killed,” said Siphon, managing an air of defiant indifference.

 

Orthas chuckled, cold and calculating. “Not entirely accurate. Yes, Miro proved unfortunately unaccommodating and had to be disposed of. Ruinate, on the other hand, has had an epiphany of sorts; he now sides with me. Both of them revealed to me that which you sought to obtain from them … the holocrons of ancient sorcery. Their power is now added to my own.”

 

Siphon’s hand curled into such a tight fist, it looked like her fingers wanted to tear through her palms through brute force. “Ruinate is no pureblood. You accept him into your ranks?”

 

“He has agreed to forego the title,” replied Orthas. “Another reason you and your alien filth are unworthy of taking the name. Between dying a Sith and living humbled and denigrated … you so often choose life.”

 

“So you have one more to add to your flock, one more to follow your worthless philosophies,” Siphon said, the calm dispassion in her voice long gone. “In the end, it is I who will emerge victorious, Orthas.”

 

“No, Siphon. This contest is already won. It is only your stubbornness that draws it out. Let me assure you, when I am standing over your corpse, I will have your name - and all of your false apprentices’ names - wiped from the annals of history just as Tulak Hord once did to his enemies. Never again will you stain the title of Sith by your very existence.”

 

The transmission cut out. Orthas had terminated the connection.

 

“Master?” Rend asked gingerly after a short pause. Siphon was prone to reacting to bad news with either eerie calm or explosive fury; Rend could never predict which his master would choose. And though he had no knowledge of the ancient holocrons Orthas spoke of, he knew the loss of Darths Miro and Ruinate as allies was a critical blow to his master’s efforts in the Kaggath.

 

Rend relaxed when at last Siphon spoke, voice calm and unperturbed by Orthas’ revelations. “It seems our celebration was premature, Lord Rend. We do not have much time now; we must make preparations for an attack.”

 

“As you wish, my master … what is our target?”

 

Siphon shook her head. “No. With the holocrons of Ancient Sorcery in his possession, as well as Ruinate’s defection, Orthas must believe he now has the strength to finish the Kaggath. He will be mounting an assault on this fortress. We must ready ourselves.”

 

Rend could not disagree with the tactical assessment. “What would you have me do, my lord?”

 

“Have agent Quen recall our forces in the field as quickly as she can. Then make whatever preparations you must; this will be a battle for our very survival.”

 

Rend nodded. He needed to see Quen anyway; there were questions she needed to answer, namely why her dossier had left out Pike’s lightsaber proficiency. “What will you be doing, my lord?”

 

Rend could hear the hint of annoyance in Siphon’s tone. “I have my own preparations to make. Do not tarry, Lord Rend. We have not the time.”

 

“… It will be done.”

 

* * * * *

 

Ten Years Prior

 

“ … speak up, apprentice. You succeeded in your mission?”

 

Tosin coughed in a feeble attempt to clear his throat. “Y-yes, master. I … I killed them.” He could feel the smile from the Sith Lord, even through her mask.

 

“Good … tell me, what do you feel?”

 

The question took him aback. What did it matter what he felt? “I … I don’t feel anything, my lord.”

 

“Again, you lie, Tosin,” said Siphon, his voice filled with mocking glee. “You struck down your brother in cold blood. You must feel something.”

 

“I … no, my lord. I did as you commanded. I demonstrated my loyalty. My commitment!”

 

Siphon’s laughter echoed through her chamber. “Yes, apprentice. You have demonstrated your resolve. But you claim you do not feel the impact of your actions … do you think you will earn my favor, my respect, for demonstrating callous indifference in the face of atrocities committed by your hand? Do you think that is what the Sith thrive upon? Do you think this is why I commanded what I did?”

 

“My … my lord?” Tosin could not keep the tremble from his words. He hated it. More than that, he hated himself, for being weak, for his crimes, for his failures.

 

“Peace is a lie, little Sith. There is only passion. Show me your passion. Show me what you’re trying to hide.”

 

The words poured out of him before he could stop himself, before he could consider the consequences of their meaning. “I … I feel … anger. I feel HATE! You made me -- you made me kill my own brother, you *****. But h-how could I do it? What have I become?”

 

“You have become strong. Embrace what you feel, apprentice. Let it swallow your heart and consume it from the inside out. Let it feed your power.”

 

“I know you hate me Tosin,” Siphon continued. “But that is good. Channel your rage as you drown in the memories of your actions this day. Use your emotions to bring our enemies to their knees.”

 

Tosin fell silent. He could sense the pride in his master … no. It was more like … glee. Siphon spoke more, but the words did not pass Tosin’s ears. The flash of anger he felt had quickly been scattered as something else took its place: fear. It was all he could do not to be overwhelmed, not to allow his breath to spin out of control, praying that his Master did not notice the cold sweat accumulating at the top of his forehead.

 

“ … go now. Wait for my summons. Tomorrow, we will begin the next phase of your training.”

 

He bowed low, then backed out of Siphon’s quarters. As soon as he was out of sight, he turned tail and bolted to his own room; he passed several other apprentices on the way, but paid them no mind. Shutting the door behind him as quickly and quietly as he could, he crawled into a corner and curled up into a pathetic ball, knees clutched to his chest, breath coming in labored and desperate gasps.

 

As he rocked himself back and forth, Tosin wondered in futility if Siphon had seen through his deception.

 

* * * * *

 

3637 BBY

“Confirming. Agents Braeden and Fyat-Pree are not responding to holocalls. Agents Sembo, Terannis and Quond are confirmed killed in action.”

 

Lord Rend found Hallian Quen - along with the rest of Siphon’s intelligence operations - scanning the holonet for news, no doubt in connection to the operatives that had been assigned to Darths Miro and Ruinate. Her usual air of enthusiasm and slightly inappropriate joviality was noticeably missing.

 

Rend wondered for a moment if perhaps her mood might make getting answers out of her easier. He had questions, and only she would have the answers.

 

He approached her console station, speaking quietly. “Darth Siphon commands we recall all our forces in the field. We must prepare for an attack on this stronghold.”

 

Quen glanced at him for a moment before nodding and adjusting her communicator. “New orders received. All units, abandon current objectives and return to alpha base.” The rest of the team followed suit as urgent orders were relayed to the rest of Siphon’s power base.

 

“If there’s nothing else, my lord, I need to – “

 

“I need to speak with you … privately,” said Rend.

 

He grabbed her arm and started pulling her into a nearby corridor. Surprisingly, Quen managed to wriggle herself free somehow, though she acquiesced to his desires and followed him quietly out of the command center. “What is this about, my lord?”

 

“Vandal Pike. You’re certain he’s dead?”

 

Quen arched a brow. “You took him down, didn’t you? I examined the corpse myself. The body was buried under rubble and showed clear signs of having been electrocuted. The head was crushed beyond recognition, but genetic verification confirmed the identity - why are you asking about this?”

 

Electrocuted … had he done that?

 

Rend debated for a moment accusing Quen of sending him and Andora into a trap, that she had deliberately withheld information concerning Pike’s lightsaber prowess in order to sabotage their mission. He paused for a moment, finally deciding he might have better luck ascertaining the truth if he didn’t let her know too much too soon.

 

“What equipment did you find on the body?” asked Rend.

 

“Standard bounty hunter affair; heavy armor, a plethora of missile launchers, flamethrowers, grappling hooks, jetpacks and rocket boosts. Most of it destroyed, of course. Oh, and his pistols.”

 

“That’s it? Nothing out of the ordinary? No … lightsabers?” pressed Rend.

 

Quen shook her head, the question eliciting mild surprise - but no sign of guilt, no sign that she was hiding anything. Maybe she really hadn’t known. “You mean like … as trophies? I know he hunted down some Jedi a while back. In any case though, no, there was nothing like that on him or near where we found his body. Probably the only thing unusual about it was his blaster pistols.”

 

Rend frowned. “Elaborate.”

 

“Well, they were pretty standard fare pistols. For a bounty hunter of his renown, I would have expected something a little fancier. Custom build, adaptive mods, enhanced tech - but the ones he was holding when we found the body weren’t much to marvel at.”

 

He let loose a sigh. No answers, and Quen seemed to know even less than he did. He would verify Pike’s dossier independently now, but Rend doubted anything he learned would contradict what Quen had already provided to him. Quen’s personality might have been aggravating, but Rend couldn’t deny her work ethic or the quality of her work. That left few possibilities - either Pike had managed to conceal his skills from all of Imperial and Sith intelligence … or the man Rend had faced at Langxi wasn’t Pike at all. It was possible it had been a fallen jedi, or perhaps a Sith in Orthas’ employ masquerading as the bounty hunter.

 

… but to what end?

 

By all accounts, Pike was dead - and by Rend’s hand, no less. Still, the sith lord could not shake the feeling that something else was at work here; in his gut, Rend knew the man had survived. Pike - or whoever he and Andora had fought - was playing a game, and the sith did not appreciate being toyed with.

 

“Look into Pike’s inheritors. I want to see where his assets are go– “

 

Quen shook her head vehemently. “No. Not now. If you haven’t noticed, this fortress is about to be attacked by a small army led by a Darth who’s intent on not only killing us all, but wiping our names from history!”

 

Brow furrowing, Rend attempted to calm his tone. “Yes … you’re right. But afterwards –”

 

“I serve at Darth Siphon’s pleasure, my lord. Not yours.”

 

“Please.” The word was harder to voice than Rend thought. He shouldn’t have to utter such; courtesy was not a prerogative of the Sith. But from Quen’s appearance, it was clear she had lost friends this day. Rather than risk inflaming or causing the woman further anguish, Rend decided a small degree of humility was worth getting the information he wanted. “ … it’s important.”

 

Quen shrugged, exasperated. “Fine, fine! I’ll put someone on it the minute we’re no longer in danger of being purged from existence.”

 

Rend nodded, and whirled around to leave. He heard Quen mutter under her breath in two distinct voices: “Oh thank you Hallie, I so do appreciate you!” and “Why you’re welcome, my lord! Happy to help!”

 

It did not take long for Lord Rend to return to his quarters; they were bare and plain, though a large window brought in ample amounts of moonlight. His room overlooked the gardens, currently teeming with flora from all across planets controlled by the Empire. Darth Siphon had a fondness for collecting different species from different worlds and mixing and matching them to see if any would form symbiotic relationships. Other times, she bred them together to create wholly new forms of life. She had devoted an entire section of the garden to one such creation: a golden-petaled flower that reminded Rend of Agent Quen for some reason, perhaps because it seemed entirely too cheery.

 

Rend wondered how long those gardens would last if Orthas really were to attack. He had to remind himself that the real enemy was Darth Orthas. With the pureblood eliminated, all their troubles would be over. He had to concentrate on that fact … not focus on misgivings and paranoia concerning one of the Darth’s underlings.

 

Whatever happened, Rend knew one thing for certain:

 

This time, he would not hold back.

 

End of Part One

Edited March 26, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Part Two: Heretic

 

Chapter 4

 

3637 BBY

 

“My soldiers. You have served me faithfully and well for many years. You have been witness to my rise and know the power that I command. The power that you helped to build.”

 

Lord Rend, along with the rest of Darth Siphon’s elite, stood at attention as the Darth addressed the rest of her military forces from an elevated platform that watched over the entire courtyard of Twinspire Keep. Most of Siphon’s supporters had managed to assemble here at the stronghold - Siphon’s primary base of operations - even despite the short notice. Before him, a small army of Imperial guards, sith apprentices, and Walker armaments stood ready to defend Siphon and her allies against Orthas’ impending attack. Rend did not linger on these defenses, however. What actually caught his interest were the Sith Lords and Imperial Moffs that now stood beside him.

 

“But now, a rival power seeks to take all that we have made away from us. Darth Orthas and his allies march upon this stronghold to burn it to the ground.”

 

To his right, Rend found Lord Hysteria and Lord Lethe. Hysteria was Siphon’s oldest apprentice, and an indubitably powerful lightsaber duelist. She had shaved her head completely; not a single hair remained on her scalp. Instead, she was covered from head to toe with cybernetics and implants. Rumor had it she voluntarily severed one of her arms and had it replaced with an advanced cyborg prosthesis: all the better to keep a grip on her lightsaber. She was aptly named; Rend sometimes wondered who was more reckless, her or Andora. He had noticed that even their master had difficulty controlling her once she entered the heat of battle.

 

Lord Lethe, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. Where Hysteria’s complexion was rough and pallid, Lethe’s skin was dark but youthful. Their differences didn’t end there; perpetually calm and collected, Lethe favored manipulating the Force rather than close combat with lightsabers. Her specialty was interrogation, and the domination of minds. Rend had once witnessed her compel two jedi padawans - in the heat of battle no less - to strike each other down during the Sacking of Coruscant. Even then, she never lost her composure, the only hint that she even experienced emotion was the small and wicked curve of her painted lips as the padawans gasped their last breaths.

 

“He thinks that it will be easy to destroy us. He thinks that he can snuff us out as easily as blowing out a candle. Well … I say he has sorely underestimated us! I say it is he who will find his demise here!”

 

A cheer ripped through the assembled crowd.

 

To his left, Rend noted General Rhimus Ravain, a decorated Imperial military commander who had served with honor; wounds sustained in battle had left him confined to a hoverchair, but his tactical expertise and superior command ability had earned him a place in Darth Siphon’s retinue. Further down, Rend recognized Darth Cerber. He knew little about this Darth, other than he was one of Siphon’s oldest allies.

 

Andora took the end, barely recovered from his injuries. The twi’lek shot a glare at Rend as their gazes crossed path; clearly, he had not appreciated Rend’s efforts to save him from Vandal Pike. Rend shrugged; there would be more time to feud after they determined whether they would survive the day.

 

“Let us show this arrogant Sith the meaning of true power! Let us tear him down, and crush everything that stands in our way!”

 

The soldiers roared their approval once more. Rend wondered if they knew how little Siphon actually valued their lives. There was only one use for them in a Kaggath: cannon fodder.

 

“General Ravain, I leave things here to your capable hands,” Siphon said as she stepped down from her podium. The general immediately moved to begin issuing commands to the assembled congregation.

 

Siphon turned to the rest of them. “The rest of you will be guarding key vulnerabilities in this stronghold.”

 

“Why not allow us to take the offensive, Master?” asked Hysteria.

 

Andora nodded vehemently, even despite his injuries. “Hysteria is right. We should take the battle to them, catch them off guard. The element of surprise and the momentum of a forward assault will surely --”

 

“Control your apprentices, Siphon,” said Darth Cerber.

 

Darth Siphon only had to unleash a small jolt of force lightning to render Andora silent, cringing in pain.

 

“Do not question me again, Andora, or Orthas and his forces will be the least of your worries.”

 

“Y-yes, M-master,” wheezed the twi’lek. Hysteria cackled with maniacal glee.

 

“Darth Cerber,” continued Rend’s master. “If you would be so gracious as to take watch at the south entrance with my fool apprentice Andora. If he defies you, you have my permission to enact whatever punishment you see fit.”

 

Andora sent a horrified look to Siphon, but none among the group offered any objection.

 

“As you wish, Darth,” replied Cerber.

 

Siphon turned to the cyborg sith. “Hysteria. You will support General Ravain at the vanguard. Rip every last one of Orthas’ forces to shreds.”

 

Hysteria smiled wide, revealing jagged - and impeccably white - teeth. Immediately, she leaped into the air, landing with pointed toes upon one of the parapets in the forefront of the courtyard, twin sabers drawn and ready, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of Orthas.

 

“Lord Lethe,” continued Siphon. “You will be guarding our operations command center. Its defense is critical; do not disappoint me.”

 

Lethe bowed her head low and departed without another word.

 

“And me, my lord?” asked Rend.

 

“You will be guarding me, my apprentice. I will need you by my side as I undergo battle meditation.”

 

Battle meditation … Rend knew it was not a skill to be used frivolously; the effort would require the user’s full attention and would drain Siphon of much of her strength. Still, it would likely be needed in this battle if they were going to stand any chance at success. Agent Quen had given them the probability assessments the night before; they weren’t good. Orthas’ forces easily outnumbered Siphon’s two to one, and he had just as many - if not more - potent warriors at his side.

 

“Of course, my lord.”

 

Battle meditation could prove the key to their survival. But it was not without its risks. Rend suspected his master wanted him on the lookout for would-be assassins, and for good reason. There was little chance even Darth Siphon could maintain the skill while fighting for his life. It would be up to Rend to ensure his master’s safety.

 

“Come then,” said Siphon grimly. “Let us make haste. Orthas’ forces will arrive by dusk.

 

* * * * *

 

Hallian “Hallie” Quen watched a holo-projection of the battle begin to unfold across Twinspire Keep’s courtyard. Safe within the heart of the Keep and protected by Lord Lethe, she felt relatively at ease … at least, for the moment. Through the projected images on the multitude of display screens before her, she could see General Ravain bark orders at the soldiers from his position atop the grand steps leading to the main entrance of the stronghold. Blaster fire pelted the soldiers on both sides; Siphon’s forces were fighting for their very lives.

 

In the distance, Darth Orthas’ made a slow approach at the rear of his own armed forces. Probes launched by her team before the battle afforded her a good view; the pureblood was dressed in tattered ceremonial robes and drew a hood over his head, leaving the crimson tendrils that hung from his chin as his most prominent facial feature. He stood atop a walker for the best vantage point, alternating between shouting commands and firing bolts of electricity at distant targets. Missiles, probably. At least, Hallie hoped it was only missiles being struck down.

 

At the vanguard of Orthas’ army, she caught sight of Darth Ruinate unseating himself from a monocycle. The traitor’s lightsaber had already been unsheathed and activated, purple blade shimmering. The Zabrak lord scanned his surroundings for a moment before howling a warcry and charging forward, followed immediately by wave upon wave of Orthas’ men.

 

From over the communicator, Hallie heard General Ravain roar, “Ready the forward turrets! Blast the enemy to oblivion!”

 

It wasn’t like she really cared who won the Kaggath … but since Orthas had made it clear his intention was to utterly obliterate anything that had even a remote connection to Siphon, Hallie really had no choice but to root for her lord and master. She had no desire to be eradicated, after all. As such, her hands flew across the computer console with rapid precision and even a sort of grace that comes from learned repetition, simultaneously repositioning the Keep’s forward defenses to acquire new targets while still monitoring both Siphon’s and Orthas’ forces. Alongside her, a dozen more agents mimicked her movements on their own consoles, switching between glancing at the holo monitors, inputting commands into their systems, and relaying logistical and tactical information to the military commanders currently keeping them all safe.

 

Glancing backwards to the human sith behind her; Hallie almost thought she caught a glimpse of awe on the dark-skinned lord’s face at witnessing her team’s coordinated efforts. “We’ve all got our talents, my lord. Ours just happens to be most useful at a desk.”

 

“As you say, Agent Quen,” replied Lethe, a - if not generous, then at least not an unkind - smile forming on her face. Their relationship was interesting; Lethe was renowned among Siphon’s apprentices as being the most cold, the most calculating, the most indifferent and apathetic. Something about Hallie seemed to bring out a little of Lethe’s humor, however. She liked Lethe, most likely because the latter seemed to be the only sith lord that understood Hallie’s humor, unlike Siphon’s other apprentices; Lord Rend, in particular, seemed not to enjoy her company.

 

“Reports from the courtyard, Watcher,” said one of her fellow agents. “General Ravain is keeping the bulk of Orthas’ forces occupied at the gates. They’ve yet to breach the walls.”

 

Watcher was Hallie’s old title when she was still part of the now dismantled Imperial Intelligence. Most of her team here was comprised of former members; many had fallen into old habits since joining Siphon, especially with regards to honorifics.

 

“Status on Hysteria?” asked Hallie.

 

“She’s engaged Darth Ruinate atop the walls. Everytime he tries to push farther in, Hysteria’s blocked his path. Ruinate’s not been able to shake her.”

 

“Good. And Cerber’s team?”

 

“Lord Andora reports no signs of enemy activity in the southern tunnels,” came the reply.

 

Hallian frowned deeply. From her left, she heard Lord Lethe ask, “Something wrong, agent?”

 

“If Orthas really wanted to overrun the courtyard, with his numbers and equipment, I don’t doubt that he could. Instead, he lets us fight him to a standstill at the gates…”

 

“A distraction?” asked Lethe.

 

“Poss--” began Hallie, but her voice was interrupted by an open broadcast communication issued from Orthas’ walker.

 

“Lord Hysteria. I wondered if you would live up to your reputation. Did you know that some refer to you as ‘the storm that cannot be stayed?’ ”

 

Hallie’s gut told her Orthas was laying a trap; with Hysteria’s temperament, it would be all too easy for Orthas to manipulate her into forgoing tactics and strategy. “Redirect the holocams to Lord Hysteria’s position. I want eyes on her now!”

 

The room exploded with activity as all agents began a frantic search to locate the cyborg sith.

 

“Lord Hysteria, your orders are to support the general! Do not engage with Orthas! I repeat, do not engage!”

 

“I must say, though,” continued Orthas, “I’ve seen nothing here that warrants such a lofty title. Truly, a pitiful performance. But … what should I have expected from an apprentice of Darth Siphon? What could you have learned from ‘she who sullies the name of the Sith?’”

 

“General!” shouted Hallie into her holocom. “Don’t let Hysteria take Orthas’ bait!”

 

But it was too late. Hallie’s agents located the sith lord just in time for them all to see Hysteria’s eyes widen with absolute hatred; immediately, the sith lord abandoned her battle with Darth Ruinate and leaped into motion, jumping down the walls of Twinspire, dual sabers whirling with unadulterated aggression.

 

In a matter of moments, Hysteria cut a swath of death in a clean line straight through the forward ranks of the enemy soldiers, so fast that Hallie could barely follow even from her aerial vantagepoint. From another feed, Hallie could see Darth Orthas smiling, his unnaturally white pureblood teeth bared as his face expanded eagerly and wild; he held a hand up to order the nearby walkers not to attempt to dissuade Hysteria’s attack.

 

Hysteria reached Orthas’ walker in less than a minute. She let loose a deafening scream as she launched into the sky like a rocket, powered by both the force and her cyborg enhancements. Her movements brimmed with unnatural grace and speed; in the next moment she reached Orthas’ position ten meters high, twin sabers slicing through the air to sever Orthas in thirds at the neck and the waist.

 

Just for a moment, Hallie thought Hysteria would succeed.

 

Then, she watched as the Darth raised a single hand, calmly and without even a hint of concern. Through manipulation of the Force, Orthas grabbed hold of the cyborg sith’s body. Instantly, all of Hysteria’s momentum dissipated; her lightsabers - the crimson blades only centimeters from reaching their target - fell impotently from her grasp as she clawed at her throat, choking, legs scrambling to find purchase that was not there, eyes bulging with simultaneous fury and fear.

 

“Pathetic. This is the best of what Siphon has to offer?” Orthas thrust his hand downward and Hallie could only watch as Hysteria’s body slammed ten meters downward into cold concrete; where only seconds ago it had been a whirlwind of motion, now it moved no more.

 

Hallian screamed into the holocom. “Lord Hysteria! Respond!”

 

“It’s no use, Watcher! We can’t raise her com signal!”

 

“S-such … power …”

 

Hallie whirled around. Lord Lethe, the Sith Lord who did not fear, who did not care, who did not show emotion … looked afraid. Her hands trembled. Her voice shook. Her eyes stood wide open, and her mouth agape, unable to tear herself away from looking at Hysteria’s gruesome fate.

 

If Hallie felt any sense of safety before, it was definitely gone now.

Edited March 26, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 5

 

Twinspire Keep was far from the largest stronghold a Sith Lord had ever commanded, but the two towers of its namesake did soar high into the air. The stronghold itself overlooked a canyon that scarred the icy landscape of Ziost about half a day’s shuttle-ride from New Adasta and was well-fortified. It also sheltered a massive ritual chamber located just above its underground operations command center. The circular room was draped in Sith paraphernalia and decorated with ancient artifacts and relics. Large red banners stretched nearly twenty meters from the ceiling to only centimeters off the floor in the periphery, perfectly perpendicular to the circular steps that led up to a similarly round dais at the center of the chamber.

 

Lord Rend remembered training with Siphon here. The banners were an interesting factor to consider during their exercises; simultaneously useful for scaling to better vantage points, to cloak oneself and mask one’s presence, and to serve as a distraction and even weapon against an opponent. This was the first place Rend had learned to use his surroundings to his advantage; a lesson that had not been easily mastered.

 

Darth Siphon had already taken position at the center of the dais, meditating at the center of four hovering holocrons, each a record of power and prestige belonging to ancient Sith lords. Rend felt the seething hatred emanate off his master as she began her Battle Meditation; already, Rend could sense his own confidence growing and his connection to the Force strengthening. Curiously though, there was something else as well … an overwhelming presence in his mind that made him feel as though his other senses were growing dull, a muted ache that he noticed only because he focused on it.

 

Rend did not bother to mention this to his master: the battle meditation was too important to the day’s efforts to interrupt or to risk losing for a mild headache. Perhaps it was just the proximity to the Siphon’s ritual that was causing the slight discomfort; Rend had never witnessed his master employ the ability in person.

 

He paced quietly for several minutes, careful not to make any sound or become a distraction, though the effort soon became aggravating. It was a sign of trust that the Darth had chosen him as her personal guard - even knowing that Andora likely would have been chosen had he been at full strength - but Rend found the task mind-numbing. He was neither Hysteria nor Andora, but the thrill of combat was still preferable to glorified guard duty.

 

Without warning, he felt a sudden hollow in his chest, an echo of something familiar dissipating into an ocean, a void that shrieked through the Force; Hysteria had been slain.

 

“My lord! Orthas’ forces are overrunning the courtyard!” came Quen’s frantic voice over his comlink. “Orthas, he – he took out Lord Hysteria! General Ravain needs reinforcements, can you assist?!”

 

Rend’s mind raced. If the courtyard was taken, his master’s defenses would be hard-pressed to defend the rest of the Keep; it would be a critical blow in Orthas’ favor. Then again, if he abandoned his post and Darth Orthas managed to strike at his master through an assassin, all might be lost.

 

“Lord Rend!”

 

There was no time for debate. “On my way, agent. Have some of the forces at the courtyard fall back to a defensive perimeter around the ritual chamber. Under no circumstances are they or anyone else to disturb Darth Siphon’s battle meditation!”

 

“As you say!” came the woman’s curt reply before the transmission was cut off. Rend glanced back one last time to his master - the masked woman didn’t appear to have been drawn out from her trance, at least not yet. Hoping he had made the right choice, Rend raced towards the front gates, his legs powered by the Force to carry him as quickly as they could.

 

* * * * *

 

“Reports coming in, Watcher! We’ve suffered 20% casualties at the courtyard, but General Ravain is holding position there.”

 

Lord Rend’s arrival had done much to deter the enemy’s momentum. “Let’s make sure it stays that way,” replied Hallie. “What about the enemy?”

 

“They’ve taken more losses, but they still outnumber us by three to two.”

 

General Ravain’s voice came over the holocom. “Get me a status report on the southern tunnels, we might need Darth Cerber up here too!”

 

“That would leave the southern tunnels exposed, General,” protested Lethe. She had managed to regain her composure, though Hallie would not soon forget the image of her unsettled and clearly rattled face only moments earlier.

 

“The southern tunnels aren’t under attack, Lord! We need to deal with these hounds at our front step, now!”

 

Lethe neither reacted nor replied to the general’s rebuke.

 

“Lord Rend,” directed one of Hallie’s agents. “The enemy is attempting a pincer strike on General Ravain’s position. Move to reinforce, now.”

 

Hallie didn’t have the time to spare just watching the battle, but the sight of Rend in action was hard to look away from even through a holo-feed. With one hand, his lightsaber whirled all about him, deflecting blaster bolts from the side while his other hand captured one of Orthas’ pureblood apprentices in a storm of electricity. The pureblood collapsed to the ground, smoke wafting up from his unmoving body. The next moment, Rend had leaped to the general’s side, striking down anybody who got too close and sending surges of lightning that leaped from enemy soldier to enemy soldier in a chain reaction, felling four or five at a time.

 

“Agent Quen!” shouted General Ravain into the holocom. “I need status in the south!”

 

“Watcher,” said one of Hallie’s agents, her dread in her voice clearly audible. “I … I can’t raise Darth Cerber or Lord Andora …”

 

“What?”

 

“Holo-camera feed along the southern wall is being disabled, Watcher!” came another cry. “Something’s heading this way!”

 

Hallie cussed as loud as she could and then leaped over her desk to get at the internal security console. Her agent was right; security cameras were being disabled one by one, on a straight path to their operations center. “Activate internal defense turrets! General, you’ll have to make do without Cerber! The keep has been infiltrated!”

 

She glanced around the room, watching as half her team seemed paralyzed with fear. Pulling out her own blaster pistol and disabling the safety, Hallie addressed the whole room. “We will make it through this. As a team. I could go on about loyalty to our dark master, but that’s not what’s going to carry us through today. It’s going to be loyalty to each other. It’s going to be knowing that whatever happens, we all have each other’s backs! And it’s going to be spitting in the face of the man who thinks he can come into our house and kill us or our friends whenever he wants! Are you with me?!”

 

The few meager cries of enthusiasm quickly drowned themselves in silence. Hallie sighed; she never was really good at encouraging speeches. Glancing back to her Sith Lord defender, she offered a half-hearted smile of encouragement.

 

“Lord Lethe … I hope you’re ready for a fight.”

 

* * * * *

 

“Andora and Cerber aren’t responding to transmissions. Quen’s under attack by … probably by whatever took out Cerber. Hysteria’s dead … this isn’t going to end well, is it my lord?”

 

Lord Rend grunted with the exertion of shielding both himself and Ravain from blaster fire, his lightsaber leaving so many trails, he imagined they looked more like a neon sign than anything else. “Now’s not the time for pessimism, general. We’ve managed to hold them back thus far, haven’t we?”

 

But he knew that their success had as much to do with Siphon’s battle meditation as anything else. Without it, they would have long since been overrun, the courtyard seized and the stronghold claimed in Orthas’ name. His master’s efforts provided them all with with a connection to the Force, a confidence in their own ability that made every blaster bolt find its mark, every swing of the blade connect and every surge of lightning as deadly as that of a Darth. That could change in an instant if whoever now invaded the Keep managed to disrupt Siphon’s concentration.

 

Two hours had passed since Orthas had first appeared and his forces had first taken the gate. Most of Siphon’s Sith apprentices remained relatively intact, and thanks to Rend’s efforts, the Sith ranks in Orthas’ number had been significantly reduced. Orthas’ forces had suffered more casualties but they still outnumbered Siphon’s defenses three to two …

 

And yet somehow Rend and Ravain had not given ground. Curious. The courtyard was in ruins, they had lost Hysteria and yet Orthas continued to watch from afar, refusing to engage them personally. Neither side had suffered significant losses, even though Orthas could have easily massacred them all - his professed goal since the beginning of the Kaggath - had he wanted to. Curiouser still …

 

Unless their utter annihilation wasn’t the goal of this attack.

 

“Lord Rend … have you seen Ruinate?”

 

The question sent a chill down his spine. Ruinate! In the heat of battle, they had somehow lost sight of the traitor.

 

“Agent Quen, I need you to give me target coordinates on Darth Ruinate!” he shouted into his holocom. “Agent Quen! Quen, do you read me?!”

 

At first, there was only silence. Then, a stream of static interspersed with screams and Hallian Quen’s voice assaulted their ears. “– under attack! He’s – think it’s Vandal P – Lord Rend, it’s – Pike!”

 

Vandal Pike.

 

So the bounty hunter had survived. “I knew it. It was too easy,” hissed Rend. “General, I’m going to reinforce the command center. Pike’s not going to get away a second time!”

 

“My lord! What about the battle here?”

 

“This attack was never about destroying us all! This is about removing Darth Siphon’s key supporters. Orthas has already done away with Hysteria, who knows what’s happened to Cerber and Andora … now he has Pike attacking the command center! I won’t let it happen, not while I can still draw breath!”

 

He didn’t wait for Ravain to respond before flying up the stairs in a mad scramble to reach Lethe and Quen. He only hoped he would make it in time.

 

* * * * *

 

“Fire at will! Shoot him down!”

 

“Belay that!” shouted Hallie. “You’ll hit Lord Lethe!”

 

Lethe was their strongest line of defense, after all. She had leaped to engage Vandal Pike the moment he had blown up the western wall to breach the ops center, lightsaber drawn and flashing through the air; the explosion had taken out half her team and destroyed just as much of their equipment. Most of their holocams had cut out and their communications systems were all but unsalvageable. The transmission to Rend was likely the last Hallie could make from this station.

 

Vandal Pike was alive.

 

It wasn’t possible. She had performed the genetic verification herself, the corpse was a perfect match for all known records of the bounty hunter. Still, there was no denying the armor he wore, the skill he possessed … and the lightsaber with which he now traded blows with Lethe.

 

This was why Rend had asked about finding lightsabers with the body…

 

“Watcher, you really think she wouldn’t sacrifice us in an instant if she were in our shoes?!”

 

“That’s the problem with the Empire these days,” said Pike, voice distorted through his helmet, not at all phased by Lethe’s assault. “Not enough loyalty.”

 

Hallie needed to distract Pike, needed to draw his attention so that he would make a mistake and give Lethe the upper hand. “How’d you do it Pike? How’d you fake your death?”

 

“Not really your concern, agent. Not now, anyway.” Pike’s lightsaber flashed through the air effortlessly, as though Lethe’s attacks barely registered as a threat. “I’ll tell you about it if I can convince Orthas to spare your life when this is all over.”

 

Cocky bastard. “How generous of you. What makes you think I’m not the type of woman to go down with her ship?”

 

“Say it ain’t so,” lamented Pike, still perfectly countering each of Lethe’s attacks. “Orthas has a place for you and your team in his power structure. It’s just these false Sith he wants to drown in their own blood.”

 

He paused for a second. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, the man’s a lunatic and the Empire can’t hope to survive if he had his way … but hey, the enemy of my enemy, right?. You can survive this, you know. Let me finish up with Lethe and you can come with me to surrender to Darth Orthas.”

 

Lethe didn’t blink an eye, but - still crouching from behind her ruined console - Hallie spat with disgust. “You’re willing to slaughter your Sith brethren for … what? Revenge? You’d sell out the rest of your Sith brethren just like that?”

 

“I never claimed to be Sith!” Pike shouted, voice filled with the first hint of anger Hallie had heard. Pike parried another saber strike from Lethe and then let loose a jet of flame from his wrist guard. Lethe flipped back, out of harm’s way.

 

Hallie gave herself a mental pat on the back. Now we just need to seize on the opportunity. “Fire! All agents, fire at will!

 

Hallie’s remaining team popped out from their cover behind ruined consoles and computer stations to unleash a torrent of crimson blaster fire on their assailant. Pike was ready, dropping a ballistic shield in a 180 degree arc in front of himself … but Hallie’s team had gained the advantage they needed.

 

Lethe’s strength had never been in melee. If Pike hadn’t stormed in with his own blade ready to cut down anything in its path, Lethe might’ve had more time to prepare whatever Sith sorcery she needed to take this bastard down. Putting distance between himself and Lethe was the worst mistake he could have made. While the energy field protected Pike from Hallie and her squad’s blaster pistols and rifles, it would not protect him from the Force. She shot a glance to Lethe, hopeful that the Sith Lord would take the advantage.

 

Lethe’s eyes were golden orbs, the pupils as dark as oblivion; gaze still locked upon the bounty hunter, the sith lord lifted her free arm, fingers slowly curling into her palm, as though she grasped at the bounty hunter’s very soul.

 

Vandal Pike convulsed in a seizure. A horrifying shriek erupted from within his hunter’s helmet. Though the ballistic shield protected him from the hailstorm of energy blasts focused on his location, his body shuddered like each shot had found its mark, peppering him from head to toe, forcing his body to twist and contort in a cruel dance.

 

The shield would last only so long. They had him! “Keep firing!” shouted Hallie as she unloaded another volley of blaster fire. “We’re going to take him out once and for all!”

 

Then, Pike lifted his head.

 

Forced to his knees by Lethe’s mental assault, it seemed to take him all his strength to pull a tech blade from out of his boot. Gaze still locked on Lethe, the bounty hunter lifted the vibranium weapon into the air … and then slammed it into his own thigh.

 

Hallie gaped, unabashed and wide-mouthed.

 

The self-inflicted wound broke whatever control Lethe had over the man’s mind, just as the ballistic shield went down - but Pike had already taken to the air via jetpack and the barrage of blaster bolts launched by Hallie’s team slammed harmlessly into the walls. Before anyone could react, the Bounty Hunter fired a grapple around Lethe’s waist; seconds later, electricity surged forward along the grapple.

 

“Your turn, you b--!” screamed Pike.

 

Lethe’s agonized shriek sent chills down Hallie’s spine.

 

As quick as she could, Hallie pulled out her own dagger, silently praying that all her training hadn’t been lost stuck behind a computer all these years. With only a second to ensure her aim, she flung the blade out; almost by a miracle, the blade’s trajectory struck true. The grapple snapped in half as Lethe’s body crumpled to the floor.

 

“Not bad. But not enough!”

 

Pike fired a rocket from his wrist-guard; Hallie jumped out of cover to take position behind a pillar, realizing too late that she hadn’t been the target. The rest of her team across the room tried to flee, but there wasn’t time. The explosion rocked the room, sending most of her remaining team flying, unconscious or dead. It was only her and Pike now.

 

She would have to grieve later.

 

“It didn’t have to be this way,” said Pike. “You could have walked away from this. You still can. Just surrender. Orthas could use an agent like you.”

 

“Over my dead body,” Hallie hissed. She popped out of cover firing her blaster … only to discover that there was nothing in the air above her.

 

“You can’t trust Siphon. You have to know that. Her own lover was slain by her own hand. If it weren’t for her, there would be no Kaggath!”

 

Pike’s voice seemed to ring out from all directions; Hallie twisted in place, trying to locate her attacker, the adrenaline coursing through her veins almost drowning out the bounty hunter’s words. Almost.

 

Orthas’ apprentice … was Darth Siphon’s lover?

 

The gush of a lightsaber activating in front of her neck briefly drowned her vision in golden light. “She will betray you too.”

 

This was it. It was over.

 

And then suddenly, Pike was swinging the lightsaber away from her, barely catching the violet lightning that rushed towards them both.

 

“PIKE! I will end you!”

 

It was Lord Rend; somehow he had made it in time. Hallie thanked her lucky stars. With Pike’s attention occupied, Hallie slammed her elbow into the bounty hunter’s side. She doubted the blow would do much damage against his heavy armor, but it did give her just enough leeway to extricate herself from his grasp. Rolling out of the way of Rend’s lightning, Hallie grabbed another stray pistol off the floor and jumped up already firing, intent on bringing the bounty hunter down once and for all.

 

With his lightsaber preoccupied defending against Rend’s Force Lightning, Pike had no choice but to swerve and duck in the air with his jetpack. He hadn’t attacked yet, and Hallie knew why; he was calculating the odds of him being able to beat them both. Silently, she prayed that the odds were working in their favor.

 

Then, she saw Lethe’s hand move. The battered Sith Lord had recovered, and slowly she was getting to her feet. Pike saw it too; he cussed angrily, and then flew behind another pillar to avoid Hallie’s blaster fire, lightsaber still forced to defend against Rend’s lightning. Seconds later, she heard another rocket launch towards Lord Lethe, whose hands were already curling into position.

 

Hallie didn’t have time to think, didn’t have time to react. She fired.

 

The blaster bolts struck the rocket in mid-air, exploding in a maelstrom of fire and ash and smoke.

 

Vandal Pike didn’t waste another second. He flung his lightsaber at Lord Rend and then propelled himself out the blown-out wall, out of their sight and into escape. The lord parried the saber throw with his own blade and then moved to pursue Pike’s escape route until the General’s voice rang out from the last remaining internal communicator.

 

“The enemy’s stopped their attack! They’re falling back!”

 

But why?

 

A look of dread fell upon Lord Rend’s face. “General! Do you have sight on Darth Ruinate?!”

 

“Outward communications are down, my lord,” Hallie “I’ll … get on it as soon as I know I’m not about to be killed again.”

 

“Ruinate?” asked Lethe. “He’s not with Orthas’ vanguard?”

 

“No. We lost sight of him during the battle. He’s a master of stealth, Lethe, we need to get to Darth Siphon, before it’s too late.”

 

Lethe nodded. “Agent, you have things in hand here?”

 

“Go,” said Hallie. “I’ll tend the wounded and then get started on repairs.”

 

The sith lords parted without another word. Part of Hallie wanted to go with them, to ensure everything they had suffered this day hadn’t been in vain, hadn’t just been assassinated. If Siphon had been slain, they were all lost. Rend and Lethe were powerful, but ultimately no match for Orthas, that much she was certain especially after he had so easily crushed Hysteria. And that wasn’t even considering Orthas’ retinue of apprentices and allies.

 

Without Siphon, they might as well surrender.

 

She picked up Vandal Pike’s lightsaber from where it had fallen. The construction was simple and clean; the hilt had been polished to perfection.

 

For just a moment, Hallie wondered if she had turned down the bounty hunter’s offer too quickly.

Edited October 22, 2015 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 6

 

They were all dead. All the guards he had recalled to defend the central chamber - none of them still drew breath.

 

Rend felt like his heart was trying to leap out of his throat. His mind raced in a thousand directions, attempting to find truth where only speculation could possibly lie.

 

With Lethe backing him up, he stepped into the ritual chamber; they moved like cats, careful not to make a sound in case Ruinate still stalked the room, ears straining to catch any sign of life. It was difficult to see anything through the banners hanging from the ceiling; they fluttered lightly. Somehow the windows had been smashed to pieces, and a cool breeze now circulated through the chamber.

 

They reached the raised dais in the center of the room, the spot where Siphon had undergone the battle meditation. Only a body remained wearing Siphon’s tattered robes, slumped over and unmoving. Dead. Slain by a single stab wound from a lightsaber. Rend could see through the hole in the corpse’s back to the cold stone beneath it.

 

Dread swallowed his entire body; he had failed. He had lost. Orthas had won.

 

And then Lord Lethe turned the body over. “ … Ruinate?”

 

Ruinate. The treacherous Sith had been slain … but how? And where was their master?

 

Suddenly, a form revealed itself from the shadows. “Lord Rend. Lord Lethe. How kind of you to join me at last.”

 

Rend glanced at Lethe, expression doubtlessly covered with bewilderment. Lethe remained her usual stoic self.

 

“You’ll excuse the minor deception, my apprentices,” said Siphon lightheartedly as she retrieved her robes from Ruinate’s body. “I was concerned that more of Orthas’ allies might have come to aid Ruinate in his cowardly plot.”

 

Something felt different about Siphon … but Rend could not place it. He fell to his knees, prostrating himself before his master. “Forgive me, my lord. I should never have left your side.”

 

Darth Siphon laughed. “Mm. No, you shouldn’t have,” mused Rend’s master. “But I’m sure you had a good reason. And as it turns out, I handled Darth Ruinate quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

 

Something was strange. The Siphon standing before Rend seemed simultaneously familiar and yet unfamiliar. She wore Siphon’s mask, shouldered Siphon’s robes deftly and comfortably, her modulated voice sounded the same … and yet her mannerisms, her speech patterns, the way she carried herself … they seemed off.

 

Forgiveness and mercy were not traits he had come to know in his master.

 

“Impressive, my lord,” said Lethe. “Darth Ruinate is - was - a renowned assassin. To have slain him so easily …”

 

“Yes, my dear. None can deny my power now.” Rend could almost hear the smile forming behind his master’s mask.

 

“Come on, get up,” Siphon directed to Rend. “There is still work to be done. General Ravain has been broadcasting that Orthas has withdrawn his forces for now? My efforts to respond have sadly been thwarted.”

 

Rend nodded, trying to contain his confusion. “The command center was attacked … my lord, I regret I must inform you that Vandal Pike somehow survived. He infiltrated this fortress and –”

 

The buzz of a holocommunicator interrupted Rend’s report, but the sith lords soon realized it wasn’t any of theirs: it was Ruinate’s. Immediately after, Agent Quen’s voice rang out over the intercom. “Communications are back up, my lords.”

 

“Good,” replied the Darth. “Agent, I want you to record the holocoll being transmitted into the ritual chamber and prepare to broadcast on Lord Rend’s signal.”

 

“My lord?”

 

“Just do it, my dear.” Siphon said, voice filled with amusement before he answered the holocall. “Hello again, Orthas.”

 

Rend could tell the pureblood was surprised, though Orthas did his best to hide it. “Well, well. You have Ruinate’s communicator. I suppose that means he failed in his task.”

 

“Did you really think I would be defeated by the likes of him?”

 

Orthas smirked. “You are already defeated, scum. How many of your false Sith have I stripped from your ranks? Miro. Ruinate. Hysteria. Cerber. The names of your dead grow beyond the counting, while my followers’ numbers swell.”

 

“Pawns in a game,” countered Siphon. “You strike at them because you know you cannot strike at me.”

 

“A challenge, Siphon? Have you finally found your courage?”

 

Siphon laughed, cold and chilling. “A child could see through your strategies, Orthas.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“You fight to preserve my resources so that if you achieve victory, my powerbase can be added to your own. That is why you strike at my apprentices and not my armed forces. That is why you send assassins and do not risk your own worthless hide.”

 

Siphon gave a subtle nod to Rend. He immediately activated his comlink. “Now, agent.”

 

“Let us put an end to this, Orthas,” Siphon continued. “Single combat: Darth against Darth. The winner shall be declared the victor of the Kaggath with all of its spoils and privileges, all of its glory.”

 

Orthas scoffed. “I have the advantage. What makes you think I would accept your ridiculous proposal?”

 

“You have always claimed that only the Pureblood deserve the title of Sith, Orthas. I suspect you would not wish to seem afraid to face me in battle, a pretender in your eyes. If you do not accept my challenge, Orthas, you will prove yourself a hypocrite.”

 

“And,” Siphon continued. “ … my agents are now broadcasting our communication over the entire battlefield. Refuse, and both our forces will know your cowardice.”

 

Right on cue, the exterior holoprojectors began a playback of the two Darth’s conversation. Rend thought he could hear Orthas seethe even through the communicator.

 

Finally, Orthas responded. “You have your duel, then, Siphon. As you say, I would not want to further damage what shall soon be a new contingent and stronghold of my forces. I will return in a week’s time … that should be enough time for you to put your affairs in order. And when I return, you will rue the day you ever thought you could challenge me.”

 

“It is you who will know the depths of your folly,” replied Siphon, before sending a surge of force lightning into Ruinate’s communicator, utterly destroying it.

 

* * * * *

 

“Communications are restored for the most part, my lord,” said Hallie, struggling wearily to not keel over in her ruined command center in front of her Darth. “Casualties were heavy. I’ve lost over half my –”

 

Siphon cut her off. “Vandal Pike did all this?”

 

Though the Darth still wore her mask, Hallie could sense the fury grow stronger in Siphon. Behind her, Lord Rend inched back just a step. Lord Lethe had been dispatched to the courtyard to oversee the enemy’s withdrawal; Hallie couldn’t help but wish that the female lord was present rather than Rend.

 

“Yes, my lord.” She glanced to Rend, whose face now bore an unmistakable streak of guilt. She felt it herself; she had confirmed the man’s death, after all. How had the bounty hunter survived? What’s more, how had he swapped a corpse with the same genetic identity as his own?

 

Hallie’s lips trembled slightly as she spoke next. She was unsure how Siphon was taking the news. “I swear, my lord, the genetic verification was accurate. There was no way we could have known he had –”

 

“The fault is mine, Darth Siphon,” interjected Rend. “It was my mission to eliminate him in the first place. I should have done as I was tasked, I should h–”

 

“Should have? There is no ‘should have’. There is only stark, naked failure.” Lightning poured from Siphon’s hands to swallow Rend in a cacophony of agonized screams. When the Darth was done, the Lord could barely get to his knees. Hallie winced. In essence, Rend had taken the blame from her - she could not help but feel as though she might’ve been the one left charred and on her knees had lord not stepped in to shoulder the blame.

 

“You let a simple bounty hunter get away, Rend” continued Siphon, “and he returned to inflict this much damage upon us. Darth Cerber, dead. Andora in critical condition, again. Quen’s team all but obliterated.”

 

“We will make it right,” volunteered Hallie, before she could stop herself. What are you doing, you idiot? “We’ll track him down and eliminate him once and for all, my lord. We won’t fail you again.”

 

“See that you don’t. I want him found and brought back to me before Orthas returns for our duel. Alive. I won’t risk allowing him to roam free while Orthas still draws breath.”

 

Hallie gulped. Three days. That wasn’t a lot of time … “You’re really going to go through with it, my lord? Single combat with Darth Orthas?”

 

“You doubt my ability, Agent?” Siphon’s voice was dangerously quiet.

 

“N-n-not at all, my lord! It’s just that, they say Darth Orthas could have joined the Dark Council were it not for his … radical views.”

 

There was a long pause, as Hallie felt the air thicken with tension. She kept her head bowed, and face pointed firmly at Siphon’s feet, daring not to look up. It was not until she heard Siphon’s quiet laughter that she dared to sneak a peak.

 

“Let me worry about Orthas, my lovely agent Quen. You should focus on your new task with Lord Rend. Lives could depend upon it, after all.”

 

Siphon left without another robe, long robes sweeping the floor after her as she headed towards the courtyard. Hallie rushed to help Lord Rend up, only for her hands to be slapped away. Hallie decided to forgive his rudeness; he looked like he regretted rejecting her offer of aid immediately.

 

“Are you alright, my lord?”

 

He nodded. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” The words sounded unnatural rolling off his tongue, as though he had not said them in a very long time.

 

The silence was long and awkward; Hallie struggled to make sense of everything that had happened over the day. The last thing Vandal Pike had said before Rend and Lethe had forced him to retreat resonated in her mind. Darth Orthas’ apprentice - whose death had spurred the declaration of the Kaggath - had been Siphon’s lover. But why would Siphon kill her lover? Could it be that Orthas’ Kaggath had not just been for the death of his apprentice, but for – for what? What did it all mean?

 

“Agent Quen?” Rend’s voice broke her train of thought.

 

“Oh. Sorry, my lord. And … call me Hallie.”

 

“Hallie.” From Rend’s mouth, her name sounded even more awkward than his thank you, but at least his tone didn’t seem as hostile as it usually did. “It seems we’ve a new mission. Any ideas where to start?”

 

“ … A few, actually. I think your initial reaction was right; he faked his own death, but to do that, there had to be a paper trail. Bounty Hunters like him have got to have a nice inheritance waiting for their next of kin - maybe it’s time we take a page out of his book and followed the credits.”

 

Rend nodded, looking exhausted but determined. “Just tell me where to go.”

 

“Head to the shuttle bay. I’ll have coordinates transmitted there.” She paused. “And … my lord?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Hallie contemplated telling Rend about her other plan - her plan to investigate Siphon’s true connection with Darth Orthas’ apprentice and what could cause their master to kill a lover out of the blue. Something just didn’t add up and Hallie was determined to find out what. She would need all the help she could get to do it …

 

But Rend was devoted to Siphon. Hallie couldn’t risk her investigation getting back to their mutual master, not now. It was too soon. Rend had saved her life and possibly some pain, but she couldn’t trust him with this. Not yet.

 

“Just …may the Force be with you.”

 

End of Part Two

Edited October 22, 2015 by wangxiuming

[Caernos]

Hmmm, color me intrigued. I've got some theories on parts of the story but I think I will withhold them for now and wait to see how things develop. Collect more evidence so to speak.

 

Keep up the good work, looking forward to the rest.

[RikeG]

Action and intrigue — I love this. It will be interesting to see if my suspicions prove true.

 

Is it intentional that you use both 'his' and 'her' for Darth Syphon?

[wangxiuming]

Thanks for your kind words Caernos and RikeG!

 

 

Is it intentional that you use both 'his' and 'her' for Darth Syphon?

 

This was totally poor editing on my part Siphon was originally conceived as a man*, but as I started writing the story, it made more sense to me that she be a woman. I went back and tried to correct the pronouns but clearly I missed a few. I apologize for any confusion that may have caused and hope it doesn't detract from the reading experience too much. I've tried to fix the errors I've found; please don't hesitate to let me know if I missed anything!

 

 

The first chapter of Part Three will be up sometime tomorrow. Thanks again for reading!

Edited October 22, 2015 by wangxiuming

[RikeG]

With the mask and all that I got a slightly mysterious, no one knows the actual gender vibe. So I wasn't sure. Not a problem.

 

Keep up the good work.

[wangxiuming]

 

With the mask and all that I got a slightly mysterious, no one knows the actual gender vibe. So I wasn't sure.

 

I'll reserve comment on that until the full story is released!

 

 

Part Three: Dead Ringer

 

Chapter 7

 

Hallie glanced at the clock hanging over her bed. It was barely past six in the afternoon; Rend wouldn’t arrive at the coordinates she had dispatched him to for at least another two hours.

 

She had turned her quarters into a makeshift workstation while repairs began on the command center. It felt strange; she had grown accustomed to chatting with her team, throwing ideas off each other. Here, she was alone. Most of the intelligence operatives who had survived Vandal Pike’s attack were still recuperating, and the ones that had come out unscathed had been similarly relocated for now.

 

Then, there were the ones that didn’t …

 

It took her a few hours before the realization finally hit home that she would never see those men and women again. Understanding came like a sucker punch to the gut; she had been half-heartedly attempting to eat a meal when she felt a sudden urge to vomit overtake her. She had to race out of the dining area to keep from emptying her stomach all over the floor.

 

She wanted to weep, but didn’t want anyone to know or see. It made her feel even more alone.

 

Revenge was her only recourse. They - she and Tosin - would make the bounty hunter pay. There would be time for tears later.

 

But for now, Hallie could do nothing but wait. She had nothing but her thoughts with which to occupy her mind. Not wanting to succumb to grief, she turned to another mystery that demanded unveiling.

 

Vandal Pike’s words reverberated in her mind. “You can’t trust Siphon. You have to know that.”

 

Hallie did not really trust her Sith employer; she made it a point of not trusting anything she couldn’t look square in the eye, something impossible to do given the golden mask Siphon wore at all times. It was also why she found Vandal Pike’s words to be highly suspect; she had never gotten a good look at his face either.

 

No, Hallie offered her loyalty to the Darth not because Siphon had given her reason to do so; this job was supposed to be a stepping stone to greater things - and if Siphon were to ascend to the Dark Council, Hallie would rise along with her patron, a Sith wise enough to recognize talent. Trust didn’t enter into the equation. It wasn’t necessary.

 

The more she learned about the Sith, however, the more Hallie’s own curiosity spurred her to find more. There were so many questions to ask, so many truths that could be unveiled if she just spent the effort.

 

Before her, laid out in neat stacks on her desk, a dozen holopads waited for her perusal. They contained everything she could find on Darth Siphon and Orthas’ apprentice. Somewhere in these records, there had to be a key … or at least, a clue.

 

Hallie wondered briefly if the Republic bureaucracy filled itself with as much politics and intrigue as the Empire’s … and then considered what would happen if Siphon found out what she was doing. Would it be considered disloyalty to investigate her own employer?

 

After a moment, she shook her head and returned her attention to the holopads. She didn’t want to dwell on the thought.

 

* * * * *

 

Rend stepped out of the shuttle, arriving once more at the outskirts of Langxi. Hallie’s coordinates had directed him here; Rend supposed it made sense that this city might be harboring his quarry.

 

“I’ve arrived, Hallian,” said Rend into his holocom. “Where to now?”

 

“Head to the Central Warehousing District.” The woman sounded distracted.

 

Rend paused for a second, waiting for more information to follow, but none came. “That’s all you’re going to give me?” he asked.

 

Static overwhelmed the com signal for a second before it was restored. “Sorry about that. Pike left most of his assets to a woman named Valerie Pantire. I’ve ran her records through the old Imperial Intelligence databases and –”

 

“Let me guess. She doesn’t exist.”

 

“Actually, no, she does,” replied Hallie. “She’s also retired Imperial military, ninety years old, and senile. She wouldn’t be able to recognize her actual family members, much less this fraud.”

 

Rend frowned. “Taking advantage of a helpless nonagenarian? Certainly fits his bill. But it doesn’t tell me why I’m heading to a warehousing district in Langxi.”

 

“Whatever assets Valerie Pantire has are either in the custodial care of her blood family or on Dromund Kaas. Out of the blue, she inherits these storage facilities from Pike. I’m betting they’ll have a clue as to where he is, or at least how he’s been getting away with faking his own death.”

 

“You make it sound like this isn’t the first time he's done it …” said Rend.

 

“Yeah, I ran a deep data retrieval after you left. Turns out he’s had numerous aliases before ‘Vandal Pike.’ That name’s probably not even real. Verger Prince, Vega Pace, Valk Panson: all of them were bounty hunters of moderate notoriety … all of them died under questionable circumstances … and all of them left sizable credit and asset transfers to Valerie Pantire. All of them had the same MO, took jobs from the same contacts, hung with the same crowd…”

 

“I get the drift. So what do you think I’ll find at this facility?”

 

“Facilities,” Hallie corrected. “More than one. The manifests list them primarily as holding medical supplies and equipment, but those could easily be doctored.”

 

“Any security?” asked Rend.

 

“Light, except for one. The northwestern warehouse - curiously enough - is constantly being outfitted with the latest droid security details.”

 

Rend nodded. “You think that’s where I should head?”

 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to charge in waving your lightsaber, my lord. I’d recommend a reconnaissance sweep first.”

 

Rend snorted. “I’m not Andora. And … you can forgo the honorifics. At least for this mission.”

 

There was a long pause. “What should I call you then, my – er …”

 

“Rend is fine. Or Tosin, if you like.”

 

Rend instantly regretted sharing his familiar name with the agent. He might have found Hallian less aggravating now than he did a few weeks ago, but Tosin was a name he had not wanted to share with anybody ever again. He wasn’t sure why it had slipped out of his mouth now. It was a reminder of a time long past, a time of weakness and helplessness. Those weren’t things he wanted to project while facing down as formidable a threat as Vandal Pike had proved himself to be.

 

Of course, it was too late. Hallie had latched onto the name and wouldn’t let go. “Tosin. I like it. ‘Toes in,’ like you’re taking the water temperature before swimming. It’s funny, I’ve known you as ‘Lord Rend’ for so long, finding out you have an actual name, it’s …”

 

Rend sighed.

 

“ … I just mean, it’s good to know there’s an actual person behind all the lightning and flashing sabers once in awhile.”

 

“Just don’t start calling me ‘Toes in’ and we’ll be fine.”

 

“No guarantees. Anyway, head out while I run a few more diagnostics.” Hallie’s rebellious spirit could easily be seen in her smirk just before she terminated the connection.

 

He would’ve felt aggravated by that a few days ago. Annoyed. But since the attack on Twinspire, he had come to feel a reluctant respect for Agent Hallian Quen. She had handled herself well in battle - had lasted just as long if not longer against Pike on her own as Rend and Andora had … and she had likely saved Lethe from being killed. Rend could see why Darth Siphon was fond of her.

 

She was every bit as capable as he had ever heard.

 

Rend debated letting her know that for a moment the next time they spoke before deciding that focusing on their mission would probably be more productive.

 

* * * * *

 

He arrived at the coordinates Hallie had given him just before sundown. The buildings here were closely packed, with walls so close that only a few of the alleys between the warehouses could be traversed comfortably by an adult-sized human. The block of warehousing that been left to Valerie Pantire was no different, nestled together like bricks. They reminded Tosin of his old home, the way that –

 

No. It wasn’t the time to dwell. He had a mission to complete.

 

Rend did a quick sweep of the perimeter. The specific structure Hallie had referenced was easy enough to distinguish with its regular patrols of security droids and rotating camera heads. The remaining buildings were only moderately defended by guards that had clearly never seen any action; most of them carried bellies that slung around their waists morosely, giving them the appearance of being pregnant.

 

Rend’s immediate objectives were two-fold: determine if Vandal Pike was nearby or within his warehouse and if so, execute him on Darth Siphon’s behalf; if not, then they would have to see if there was anything within the buildings that they could use to lure out or as a weapon against the bounty hunter.

 

He ducked into a tight alley and activated his personal holocom once more. “Hallie. I’m at Pantire’s block. Security’s like you said - heavy on the northwestern warehouse, but conspicuously light otherwise.”

 

“Yeah, like that’s not a flashing red sign that says ‘herring,’ right there.”

 

Rend frowned curiously. “If not the northwestern warehouse, then where?”

 

“I’ve downloaded a schematic of the floor plans. It looks like the buildings are all connected through underground passageways. If you can bust your way into one, you should be able to reach the others - provided you’re not detected of course.”

 

“Yeah, that didn’t answer my question,” said Rend restlessly, poking his head out of the alley to make sure no one was onto his trail.

 

“I know, I know,” came the reply. “I need eyes inside before I can even begin to run a conclusive analysis though. There should be a ventilation shaft on the roof of the nearest building; it’ll lead into what looks like a lavatory. You think you can get to it?”

 

Rend nodded. “I’ll contact you once I’m inside.”

 

Moments later, he ran towards the Pantire’s closest warehouse, dodging the nearest guards still enrapt in idle chatter; if they heard the fluttering of his robes or light pads of his steps, they made no sign that they would react. Out of their line of sight, he bounded up the side of the walls, vaulting himself over the edge.

 

The roof was empty, clear of any sign of movement or motion. The ventilation shaft Hallie had mentioned was unobstructed and unguarded; Rend had only to pull and the rusted metal grate covering the opening wrenched loose with a tired creak. After poking his head back over the edge to confirm he hadn’t alerted any of the guards to his presence, he discarded the grate and jumped into the shaft, buffered by the Force. Dropping into a crouch as he landed, he began the slow process of crawling his way through the interior of the building.

 

It took him a few more minutes before he finally managed to reach the lavatory; the air smelled stale and musty.

 

Kicking open the grate, Rend pulled himself out of the air duct with a quiet groan. This was not his area of expertise. He preferred open combat to sneaking around in vents. At least this part was over…

 

“I’m in Hallie,” he whispered into his com.

 

“Access the nearest computer terminal and use the data spike I gave you.”

 

“One moment.”

 

He peaked his head out of the bathroom. The light was dim, and Rend could just barely discern shapes and structures. He was on the highest level of the warehouse, with only catwalks to connect the lavatories to what appeared to be small offices suspended from the ceiling. Below him, crates and cargo containers of varying sizes had been organized neatly into compact stacks. It was impossible to tell from his vantage point what they contained.

 

There was no sign of any security at all. Somehow, that made him even more nervous.

 

Careful to be as quiet as possible, Rend darted across the walkway to the nearest office. The door was locked, but he was ready. Glancing around one last time to make sure he had not been detected, he carved a small hole through the door with his lightsaber and wriggled himself through.

 

He half-expected Vandal Pike to burst into an attack the minute he stepped foot into the office, but this room too was empty, save for a computer console and a small shelf stacked from top to bottom with datapads. Rend strode forward and did as Hallie had instructed. The computer whirred with disjointed beeps and boops as the spike did its work.

 

A minute passed. “Hallie? Are you there?” he asked.

 

“Hmm? Oh. You’ve done it.” said Hallie in his ear. “Slicing the terminal now.”

 

“Speed would be appreciated,” Rend said, feeling more anxious by the minute. Something felt … wrong. This was too easy.

 

“Yeah, don’t worry. Just need a few minutes to breach the network’s defenses and cover our tracks…”

 

He could hear Hallie’s fingers dancing over her own terminal now with practiced agility, but somehow they seemed to be not fast enough. “ … are you going to fix the door to this office too? Because my lightsaber left a rather large hole.”

 

“Yeah, even still,” insisted Hallie. “It’s worth it. Better that Pike not know what we got access to, even if he finds out we were here.”

 

He couldn’t really argue with that logic. “You don’t need me here, right? I’m going scout out the rest of this warehouse.”

 

“I’ve got things handled. Just be careful.”

 

Rend left Hallie and her computer spike to their work, dashing out the office. Once more, he spent a few moments taking in the entire warehouse; no sign of movement, no sign that they had tripped any alarms or security measures. Everything was clear …

 

The stairs up to the catwalks circled the entire perimeter of the interior, but he didn’t have time for a leisurely stroll. Several containers reached just close enough that he could use them as stepping stones downwards. Buttressed by the Force, he jumped atop one stack of crates to another, and then another, before finally reaching the ground floor.

 

The crates themselves were all painted with Czerka Corporation’s distinctive logos, and their labels all marked them as holding medical supplies and rations. Rend pulled a lid of one of the containers off as quietly as he could. Peering in, he found large metallic canisters, all labeled with the same information: Tibanna gas.

 

That in itself didn’t surprise Rend. Tibanna gas was required component for carbonite freezing, something any reasonable person might expect to find in a bounty hunter’s stash of equipment. What was unusual, however, were the sheer number of containers that also held the gas. And all of their gauges read empty.

 

Either Vandal Pike had just set the record for most bounties ever captured in the entire galaxy … or he was using the gas for something else.

 

He activated his com again. “Agent, you there? Pike’s got a massive stash of empty tibanna cannisters here. Any idea what he might be using them for?”

 

“Well, I’d say he’s getting ready to put people on the freeze, but that’s the obvious answer. Without more data, I’d hesitate to even speculate.”

 

With Pike, ‘it seemed obvious,’ was too often anything but.

 

“What about Pike’s whereabouts? How’s the slice coming?”

 

“Just need a little bit more time. Sit tight.”

 

Rend deactivated his com and sighed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they had overlooked something, that they were at that very moment underestimating Vandal Pike once more. Still, there was little he could think to do, other than to wait for Hallie to complete her work. He bottled his frustration for the moment; he would need to channel it into rage should another encounter with Pike be looming. For now, he would have to be patient.

 

He hated waiting.

Edited October 22, 2015 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 8

 

Finally, Rend’s comlink went off again.

 

“Hey. I’ve finished my analysis. It looks like Pike hasn’t been there in a while. His last recorded access to the buildings was logged the same day you and Lord Andora brought down the Dread Hunters. The place is still worth a look though, in my opinion. Who knows what secrets he could be hiding here?”

 

She continued. “I’ve also downloaded blueprints of the warehousing layout for you. There’s an access shaft near your position. It’ll lead into an underground chamber not recorded on the building’s blueprints. Energy readings are high down there. Whatever Vandal Pike doesn’t want us to find, I’ll bet that’s where you’ll find it.”

 

“And the tibanna gas?” Rend asked again, as he began searching for the access panel.

 

“The cargo manifests don’t list carbonite … then again, they didn’t list the gas either. There’s nothing from what I have available that would indicate its usage, I’m afraid.”

 

“Guess we’ll find out,” he replied with a grunt as he moved aside a few crates to reveal a hidden hatch. “I’ve found the access point. Heading in.”

 

He proceeded down a series of ladders. Curiously, lights activated themselves as he neared, providing him ample sight for the path.

 

“I’m slicing internal security now.” Rend could hear the sound of Hallie’s fingers flying over the console controls as she entered what must have been a dozen commands in mere seconds. “Whatever’s in there, Pike does not want anyone to see it. There’s about fifty layers of defenses here, everything from raise shields to old-fashioned spike traps and military-grade droid guards.”

 

Rend’s throat suddenly felt very dry. “Good thing you’re here, right?”

 

“Can I list you as a reference on my resume?” Hallie chuckled. “And … there. All done. Internal security has been disabled. You should be free to move about as you please now.”

 

“Thanks Hallie,” he said. The last thing he needed to deal with was being compacted by sliding walls or impaled by a spike trap.

 

“Keep the comlink connection open in case you run into trouble. And you’re welcome, Toes.”

 

Even though Rend fully trusted Hallie’s diagnosis that the internal defenses had all been disabled, he could not help but to make slow and cautious progress. The path itself was surprisingly straightforward and amply spaced - a long, wide corridor that stretched out far enough that the self-activating lights around him did not reveal the path’s destination. Rend could tell it was straight though; he never had to make a single turn.

 

After walking for about fifteen minutes, he began to notice the signs of disabled security. Tripwires, false flooring, and unmoving cameras began to reveal themselves as he moved forward. He breathed a quiet ‘thank you’ to Hallie as he ducked under the legs of two disabled Juggernaut class HXI-54 battle droids; there was relief in the knowledge he would not have to face those monstrosities.

 

Finally, he reached the end of the tunnel: a set of double doors barred his path, but true to her word, Hallie had disabled the security locks. Rend easily pushed them open with both arms and entered the hidden chamber.

 

Here, everything was completely dark save for the blinking red lights of what must have been a dozen computer consoles. He heard the sound of something flowing, or maybe pumping. “Hallie, lighting would be nice if you can manage it…”

 

“On it, Toes. One second … there.”

 

The chamber erupted in brilliant white light, blinding Rend for just a moment. Then, everything came back into focus.

 

He stood in a large, semi-circular chamber; the walls were made of a creamy-white plasteel. A large opaque glass wall that stretched to the ceiling separated his side of the chamber from the rest. Two large pipes descended from above - no doubt from the warehouses - and connected into the divider: the source of the pumping sounds he had heard.

 

There were no computer consoles in sight. Instead, a dozen droids unfurled eight legs from within cube-like thoraxes, razor sharp feet clacking against the ground, as their glowing red eyes locked onto Rend.

 

“Of course … it always has to be spiders.”

 

They leaped into the air, bladed appendages poised to strike.

 

Hallie’s voice rang out in his ear, frantic. “What’s going on down there? I’m showing energy signatures swarming your position!”

 

Rend just barely dodged out of the way; the spider droids collided against each other, legs scrambling to find purchase but their crash course only gave him a moment’s reprieve; within seconds, they were up and charging at him again. Rend barely had time to counterattack; he unleashed a torrent of lightning but the droids seemed to feed on the surge of electricity rather than suffer any harm.

 

“I thought you said you disabled all the security - I’ve got a horde of spider droids trying to tear me apart!”

 

“8L3-G5s? There’s nothing h– They must be routed through a different network! Hold on, I’ll see what I can do to help!”

 

Rend pulled out his crimson lightsaber, swinging his arm even as he activated the blade. The brilliant red energy connected with a droid’s outstretched legs, but instead of slicing through them, his blade stopped cold. Cortosis-weave. Vandal Pike had outfitted his droids with light-saber resistant alloys. This wasn’t going to be easy.

 

The Force saved him from being skewered by a second droid who had caught up to him; he slammed it backwards with as much power as he could muster, but the droid extended its appendages up to the pipes and used it and Rend’s own attack as leverage to swing itself up to a higher vantage point. Meanwhile, two more spider droids reached his position as he desperately parried the first one’s attacks.

 

Just as four more bladed legs came swinging at him, he once more reached in within himself and threw his arms outward, flinging back all his attackers in one swift motion; it didn’t disable any of the droids, but it freed him to launch himself into the air and pull himself onto a pipe where he could get a better read of the battlefield.

 

Without warning, two explosions rocked the room, knocking all the droids off their feet and almost causing Rend to fall from his pipe. “What now?”

 

“Reinforcements!” came the cry over the comlink.

 

The Juggernaut class battle-droid! The mechanical monster had managed to destroy two of the spiders with its cannons in the surprise attack. Somehow Hallie had managed to co-opt it for her own use. Rend could already tell it wouldn’t be enough, however. The spider droids instantly redirected their target to the Juggernaut, skitting the ground with angry taps of metallic feat against metal flooring. The Juggernaut was too slow, too lumbering to prevail against its impossibly nimble cousins.

 

“I think my reinforcements are going to need reinforcements! Got any other ideas?”

 

“Working, hold on!”

 

Another cannon blast took out another spider, but the remaining nine had successfully crawled onto the Juggernaut unimpeded, legs whirring, sensors ticking, electricity discharging on critical points of the HXI-54, Within seconds, Pike’s robotic arachnids disassembled the Juggernaut into scrap metal.

 

But those seconds were the difference between life and death. Thinking fast, Rend cut a circular hole into the glass wall dividing him from the other side of the chamber. Immediately, the overwhelming smell of carbonite and Tibanna glass assailed his nostrils, but the sith bore it down and then pushed himself through the opening he had made, into the hidden chamber. He landed as quietly as he could manage, forcing himself to take a quick second to survey his surroundings.

 

Directly in front of him, a gushing stream of liquid carbonite pooled into a large heated vat that came up to his shoulder. Canisters of the same tibanna gas he had found in the warehouses lined the walls; these were still full. A spark of an idea formed in Rend’s mind. He grabbed one of the full tanks off the wall and loosened the release valve.

 

From outside the chamber, he could already hear the piercing whine of the spider droids’ feet trying to climb up the barrier to reach the opening he had cut through the opaque glass.

 

With his right hand brandishing his lightsaber, Rend carved a second hole - this time on the side of the carbonite receptacle. Liquid metal poured out of the vat like lava overflowing from a volcano. Above, the spider droids made their way through the opening in the wall, some leaping through like hawks ready to dive upon their prey, others scaling the barrier with their metallic feet and grappling hooks ejected from their midsections.

 

Rend needed to time his attack perfectly.

 

Lifting his right hand while still clutching his activated saber, he reached into the Force. He mustered all his strength and slammed his palms downwards. Instantly, all the hostile droids collapsed from their positions and fell to the floor, submerged in liquid carbonite.

 

Simultaneously, he used his left hand to hurl the gas canister into the air. Just as the tank of tibanna gas reached the point straight over the droids still trying to extricate themselves from the metallic molasses, Rend discharged a surge of pure violet lightning into the canister. It exploded with a turbulent shriek, dissipating its contents over the ensnared droids.

 

In seconds, the gas did its work, flash-freezing the liquid carbonite and permanently trapping all of Pike’s spider droids. The ones that Rend had completely submerged in carbonite were now no more than rough statues of the 8L3-G5s. Those that had managed to keep their bodies above the carbonite nevertheless had their feet bound to an immovable slab of metal; they struggled to free themselves to no avail. Unable to defend themselves with their cortosis-lined appendages, they became easy prey for Rend. He started destroying them one by one with swift strikes of his lightsaber blade to their central processing units.

 

It didn’t hurt to be cautious, after all. Not when Pike was involved.

 

He had reached the third droid when suddenly all the remaining droids shut down of their own accord.

 

“Tosin, you still there?” came Hallie’s urgent call over the comlink. “I worked my way into the secondary systems, the droids should be shutting down any second now!”

 

Panting from his exertions, Rend still managed to reply. “Thanks, but things are under control.”

 

He heard an audible sigh of relief come over the line.

 

“So what did Pike go through all this trouble to defend? What do you see?” asked Hallie. “Internal networks don’t even register a chamber, so I’m relying on you to be our eyes and ears.”

 

Rend scanned the room closely now for the first time. The vat of liquid carbonite was connected through a nest of tubes into what had to be dozens of elevated platforms. Upon each platform rested a carbonite-frozen victim. “Some kind of trophy room? There must be almost a hundred carbonite-captured bounties here.”

 

“That’s strange. Wouldn’t he have delivered these things to whoever put out the bounties?”

 

“That’s what I thought” Rend responded. “And it’s excessively many to be for an active job. I’m going to get a closer look.”

 

Rend’s earlier assessment had been on the mark. Almost a hundred captured bounties had been arranged into neat rows and columns, easily filling the expansive chamber. He walked through row after row, marveling at Pike’s tenacity for having captured so many bounties. Several of the podiums were empty, however - they looked odd without anything laid upon them, like they were somehow incomplete.

 

He bent down to check one of the carbonite block’s medical data but was surprised to discover there were no life signs at all. The victim had died.

 

“Curious. This one’s dead.”

 

“That’s not surprising,” said Hallie. “Death from improper carbonite-freezing isn’t unusual, especially if the calibrations aren’t set correctly, or if the bounty has a weak constitution.”

 

Rend checked another block. “This one’s dead too. And another … and this one.” A chill ran down his spine as he danced around the chamber examining each of the carbonite bounties. “Hallie. They’re all dead.”

 

He had discovered a graveyard.

 

The long pause that followed made him suspect Hallie was having a similar reaction. “ … Is this some twisted collection of memorabilia? Why would he want to keep corpses?”

 

Another unsettling thought ran through Rend’s head. He activated the defrosting sequence on five of the blocks randomly. He felt his heart pounding as he waited for the carbonite to melt away, to reveal the corpse of the victim - if he even was that. When the process finally completed, he approached each to examine their faces and bodies, careful to take note of any distinguishing features.

 

The first body he examined was that of a brown-haired man, who apart from being dead was in peak physical condition. A crescent-shaped birthmark could easily be discerned on the right side of his neck.

 

The second was the same man. Exactly. Same face, same body, same birthmark. So was the third. And the fourth and fifth.

 

The corpses were all of the same man.

 

Rend couldn’t help but feel he had seen that face before. But he could no longer tell if it was because he recognized him from before, or because he had just unveiled the same face five times in a row.

 

“Tosin? What’s happening?” said Hallie, the sudden sound of her voice causing Rend’s stomach to leap into his throat.

 

He did his best to hide the embarrassment. “They’re all the same person, Hallie. Every one of them.”

 

“ … I don’t understand. You mean they’re –”

 

“Clones. Duplicates. Dead, but they’re identical in ways beyond what twins or triplets would be. That, and there’s about a hundred of them here.”

 

“Cloning?” asked Hallian skeptically. “Humanoid cloning? Is that even possible? I haven’t come across anything like that even during my years at Imperial Intelligence. A few came close, some success had been found with animals, but humans?”

 

Rend activated the thawing process for three more corpses just to be sure. They too held brown-haired men with crescent birthmarks on their necks.

 

“They are all dead,” he replied. “Some sort of failed experiment, or … “ Rend did his best to collect his thoughts into a coherent narrative. “ … I think this is how he managed to fake his death. How he’s been faking his death all this time.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

 

“Except it does, in a twisted way. I’ll bet anything that the man behind the helmet that we’ve been fighting has the same face as these bodies. Whenever he thinks he can pull it off, whenever he’s failed a job or needs a second attempt, he drags out one of these corpses and arranges it such that we think he’s died.”

 

Hallie let out a long breath. “… that’s why he needed so much tibanna gas and carbonite … he needed a secure way to keep the bodies from decomposing, to maintain the illusion that he had died recently. You think he’s … he’s purposefully staging his own death on these botched jobs so he can lower his targets’ guard?”

 

“What better way to get someone to relax their guard than to make them believe they’ve won?” said Rend. “And it ensures he’s got the element of surprise. No one’s going to suspect they’re about to be attacked by a man who’s turned up dead.”

 

“That has to be how he took down Cerber and Andora so easily. They never saw him coming. None of us did.”

 

Rend spat. “Knowing Andora, it’s almost unbelievable he managed to survive when even Cerber was slain.”

 

“Andora’s not an idiot you know,” contested Hallie. “He’s got –”

 

He interjected. “–what matters is how Pike has done this, created these dead copies of himself. And how we can use this information to our advantage.”

 

“I’m pulling up files from the secondary systems … Tosin. It says here Vandal Pike - the original Vandal Pike - used to go by the name Vestral.”

 

The name sparked memory. “Wasn’t that the name of –”

 

“A Lord in Darth Siphon’s service. Vestral was cast down when he attempted - and failed - to usurp Siphon’s position. Siphon … severed Vestral from the Force …”

 

Rend remembered now; that was why he felt the ache of recognition earlier. He and Vestral had crossed paths briefly while Rend was still only an apprentice. Vestral had been cast out when Rend himself had only just attained the title of Lord.

 

“You didn’t recognize his face when you matched his genetics?” Rend asked, only half-accusingly. He hadn’t recognized the face either, after all.

 

Hallie grumbled. “No, I told you, remember? The corpse’s head was crushed beyond recognition. And no wonder, he didn’t want us to know. I only ran the verification against data stored under Vandal Pike’s name at the time … I hope you didn’t expect me to somehow know to run it against an exiled Sith, because there was literally no reason for me to do that. Precognition is really your department.”

 

“Yeah … you’re right.” Rend considered. Vestral was a master of the lightsaber forms, his duel with Siphon had been exhilarating to watch. It explained how Vandal Pike had been able to hold off Andora in their first encounter. Apparently being severed from the Force hadn’t impacted his skill with the lightsaber, at least, not significantly. Still, the loss of one’s connection to the Force was no superficial matter; Rend couldn’t imagine life without being connected to it.

 

“ … so his motivations lie beyond simple greed. He’s come back to try and take down Siphon again, or get revenge for what she did to him.”

 

“There’s more.” Hallie paused for a moment over the holocom, as Rend waited with bated breath. “Vestral went into hiding after his exile … but it seems he made contact with one Doctor Magaro - a renowned genetic researcher and scientist. Tosin, from the records here, it looks like they experimented with cloning in an effort to reconnect Vestral - Pike - to the Force.”

 

Rend glanced around at the dead bodies. “Whatever they did, I don’t think it worked. Pike hasn’t shown any Force abilities in our battles. And these clones … they’re pretty dead.”

 

“Thank the stars for small miracles. I don’t need any more Vandal Pikes running around this galaxy.”

 

Rend paced restlessly in a circle. “The mission wasn’t a total waste then. We have Pike - Vestral’s - history. But we still have to track him down somehow too … it’s obvious he’s not here.”

 

A self satisfied hum sounded out over the comlink. “Burn the place down.”

 

“ … what?”

 

“Burn it down. Eliminate his advantage … and hey, I’m betting that Pike will come running if he realizes his precious cargo is about to be obliterated. That, and I’ll trigger every last one of his security warnings. I only wish I was there to get a look at that bastard’s face in person once he realizes what we’ve done.”

 

Rend considered the plan for a moment. It wasn’t the most elegant of stratagems; there was no telling how long it would take Pike to get to the warehouse, and no guarantee that Rend would be able to best him in single combat. Then again, there weren’t many other options. They had no leads on where Vandal Pike might currently be, and no reason to suspect that question could be answered by anything in these warehouses. And while Pike had multiple elements of surprise the last few times they had fought, this time it would be Rend - Rend and Hallie - who had the advantage, who would have the time to lie in wait and ensnare their prey.

 

“Agreed. Trigger the alarms. I’ll start on making this place Vandal Pike’s funeral pyre.”

 

“It’s about time we got some payback. Do me a favor though? Collect what data you can on the corpses. Even if the clones were a failure, what Doctor Magaro achieved … that knowledge might come in handy to us one day.”

 

“Always the curious one, aren’t you?” he asked.

 

“How does that Jedi saying go? There is no ignorance, there is …”

 

“Really? You’re going to quote the Jedi Code to a Sith?” asked Rend with a humorous tone of disbelief.

 

Hallie chuckled. “Alright, I see your point. But Toes … you’re sure you can take Pike on alone?”

 

“He won’t get away again.”

Edited October 17, 2015 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 9

 

Hallie stretched languorously, pulling and tightening muscles that hadn’t seen extended use for the last few days. It felt good to move after spending so much time hunched over the desk in her quarters. Repairs of the command center had proven more complex than initially estimated. It looked like she would be here for a while still.

 

She glanced backwards. A stream of moonlight had snuck through her drapes, gently shining upon her bed and its sole occupant. Lord Andora slept, battered but unbroken, mouthing the sith code in his dreams. He was naked from the waist up, crimson skin painting a stark contrast to Hallie’s bland grey sheets. His broad chest rose and fell with rhythmic serenity. Hallie smiled. The fleeting moments after their trysts were some of the only ones she could see ephemeral flashes of contentment in him. She thought it suited the twi’lek, though she doubted he would appreciate the sentiment.

 

Hallie had grown fond of the Andora over the past few months. It was a relief to see he had recovered enough for some moderate physical activity. By a stroke of luck, Andora had survived two encounters with Vandal Pike, where even Darth Cerber had been slain.

 

Toes had survived too, but both times he had help. Honestly, Hallie didn’t know if he would be able to defeat the bounty hunter - now revealed to be a former Sith and an exiled disciple of Darth Siphon himself - in single combat. Then again, whatever her master might claim, Siphon’s forces had indeed suffered heavy losses. With Andora still wounded, Hysteria slain, and most of her allies scattered or killed, Siphon had few options; Tosin was one of few viable candidate for the job.

 

Of course, these would all be moot points if Pike never showed up...

 

A day had passed since Tosin put Vandal Pike’s warehouses to the flame, twenty-four hours since she had purposefully triggered all the alarms in the building. She and Tosin watched as the guards - both droid and humanoid alike clamored to salvage what was now only wreckage, only to be swallowed by a crumbling building or devoured by fire.

 

They monitored the situation closely as Imperial investigators arrived on scene and interviewed the survivors, searched through the debris. The investigators’ efforts were half-hearted at best. As soon as they judged that the attack had not been committed by Republic or seditionist agents, they departed, content to leave most of the bounty hunter’s now ruined secrets to their grave. Their investigation took less than six hours.

 

Tosin had made a makeshift camp in an abandoned warehouse across the way. From his vantage point, and with Hallie’s slicing of other security cameras within the district, they should have been able to detect any approach made on the rubble. Instead, they literally watched as the dust settled around what was supposed to be the hailing beacon inviting their quarry to return.

 

She sighed, setting aside her work for the moment. If they couldn’t capture Pike, she would turn her attentions to another mystery that begged to be solved.

 

Ever since her encounter with Pike during the attack on Twinspire Keep, his words echoed in her mind insistently. “Her own lover was slain by her own hand! If it weren’t for her, there would be no Kaggath!”

 

The data Hallie had collected seemed to confirm the bounty hunter’s claim that Siphon’s lover had indeed been Darth Orthas’ apprentice, a sith lord by the name of Nyseria. Up until a month ago, both had taken on tasks that had dispatched them to nearby locations. Their absences from military operations coincided too often to be above suspicion. Then, there was the holocam recordings of the pair stealing glances and affection.

 

Why would Siphon decide to turn on Nyseria?

 

A lover’s spat? A quarrel taken to the extreme? It was not unheard of for Sith lovers to have slain each other in fits of passion, but somehow that didn’t seem in character for Hallie’s employer. She had known her master long enough to know that much.

 

Then … why?

 

With Pike still missing, Hallie took the opportunity to dig deeper into both Nyseria and Siphon’s history. The young pureblood woman lived an unremarkable life - for a Sith, at any rate. She passed her trials in the valley of the Dark Lords and made an impression on Orthas, who took her under his wing. He dispatched her to Balmorra where she won a series of victories against resistance fighters under Darth Lachris’ supervision and soon ascended to the rank of Lord.

 

From there, she took part in the Corellian occupation, suffering losses against Jedi liberators that stained her otherwise impressive record. Nyseria returned to Orthas’ side after the Emperor’s defeat and the Dark Council found itself rife with infighting; her master seemed to sense the climate of turmoil and no doubt wanted to consolidate his power base. Soon after, her trysts with Siphon began.

 

Siphon’s own records were much more curious. Baras, self-proclaimed Voice of the Emperor, elevated Siphon to the rank of Darth upon claiming Darth Vengean’s emptied seat at the Dark Council for himself. Many questioned whether Siphon would survive Baras’ subsequent ousting at the hands of the Emperor’s Wrath, but the new Darth proved herself unexpectedly powerful, emerging victorious in three separate challenges to her title by Sith of proven might. Strangely, none of these duels had any witnesses; the only proof that she had won was Siphon’s emergency with the body of her defeated enemy.

 

Even so, Hallie felt a sense of pride knowing that the intelligence she had provided to her sith master had helped Siphon secure victory.

 

What caught Hallie’s attention most of all, however, was that there was almost nothing of Siphon’s history recorded before her entry into Baras’ service. It was almost as though the false Voice had plucked her from literal obscurity. No records could be found of Siphon’s time on Korriban as an apprentice, no details emerged of her efforts in the cold war, nothing on her time as a Lord.

 

All Hallie had been able to recover was a name: Tallis Fell.

 

Hallie recognized the markers in the data files; someone had purposefully removed the data from active intelligence networks. There was no doubt in her mind that Siphon had done it herself. The question was again … why?

 

Pike’s warning echoed in her mind once more. “ … She will betray you too.”

 

So many unanswered questions. So many dead ends.

 

Hallie needed a breath of fresh air.

 

She stepped lightly out to the balcony, careful not to stir Andora from his slumber. Her quarters rested within one of Twinspire Keep’s dual towers, overlooking a canyon smothered by snow. Two moons hung themselves heavily in the night sky, painting the pristine canvas below her in shimmering blues and purples.

 

Hallie liked spending time here at night. It was a refuge of peace, and she found herself better able to come to solutions when pondering them here rather than anywhere else. The unending batches of data from her computer consoles proved overwhelming at times; this was as good a place as any to help her mind sort through the information, filing away the irrelevant pieces while focusing on the pertinent points.

 

Tonight, however, the pristine scene was marred by the appearance of scaffolding and construction equipment littered across the balcony. Orthas’ attack on the keep had damaged the walls. Repairs here mirrored the progress made on the ops center: slowly.

 

Good contractors were always so hard to find.

 

After a moment, she reached for her comlink. “Tosin, are you there?”

 

A groggy “ ...yes,” came shortly after. It seemed even Sith grew tired of waiting.

 

“No sign of Pike?” she asked tentatively.

 

Tosin yawned. “No … just the pile of rubble we left for him. Something the matter? You have news?”

 

Again, she debated for a moment whether to tell the sith lord about her other investigation. She had debated telling Andora too, but ultimately felt it wasn’t worth the risk, both to him as well as herself. Andora was not known for his acting talent, and even had he been willing to overlook the nature of her investigation, she judged it an unnecessary element of uncertainty to have to rely on the twi’lek to maintain appearances.

 

Then, there was always the chance that Andora would take her suspicions straight to Siphon. Hallie wasn’t a fool; she knew how sith politics worked. Whatever any Sith could do to curry the favor of their master, they would do. That included throwing a lover to the wolves to advance their own power and prestige.

 

Tosin on the other hand … there was something different about him. He wasn’t like any Sith she had ever met.

 

“Hallie?”

 

She made a split second decision. “Can I ask how you ended up in Darth Siphon’s service?”

 

“ ... Why do you want to know that?”

 

“Please. It’s important,” she replied.

 

Tosin paused for a long moment, before finally speaking again. “ … she took me in when I had no one left to turn to.”

 

Hallian stayed silent, waiting for him to elaborate. Hoping that he would reveal his story to her.

 

“Is that all?”

 

Hallie felt crestfallen. Even half-expecting him to hide his history, she still hoped she had earned the man’s trust over the last few days. If he had been willing to share his story, she would have known that there was trust between them. She would have felt at ease sharing the second investigation she had been working on. If only he had been willing to open up ...

 

“ … yeah. Sorry Toes. I guess I just couldn’t sleep.”

 

The Sith lord grumbled. “It’s fine. Let me know if you find anything new that will help. I’m starting to think Vandal Pike isn’t going to return here.”

 

“Of course. Will do.”

 

“Get some rest, Hallie. Don’t overwork yourself,” said Tosin, yawning again before ending the call.

 

She sighed. Maybe Tosin was right. Some sleep would help her collect her thoughts in the morning.

 

Hallie stepped back into her quarters and was at first confused at the sight of her bed, emptied. Had Andora departed so unceremoniously? Her question was answered by the sound of a quiet knock at her door and the twi’lek’s waving arm springing out of her closet. Both of them had wanted to keep their private affairs secret; Andora likely didn’t want to be judged to have a weakness in a lover, and Hallie - however guiltily - had no desire for it to become common knowledge that she was involved with a Sith many believed to be lacking in cerebral proficiency. After all, however fond of him she had grown, Hallie still had standards.

 

The knock rapped against her door again, this time more firmly. Who could it be at this hour?

 

Hallie stepped to the door and opened it a crack … and then swung it wide as her heart leaped into her throat. “D-darth Siphon. To what do I owe the honor?”

 

The masked figure of Siphon’s lithe form sauntered into Hallie’s quarters, brushing past the agent with little thought and so quickly that Hallie couldn’t even think of an excuse to keep her master out.

 

“Hello, Agent Quen. Still dressed? Still working?”

 

“Er … yes, my lord. But I was just about to turn in for the night …”

 

“Oh?” said Siphon with an obviously false tone of curiosity as she shut the door behind her. “How fortunate I’ve caught you at just the right time then.”

 

Something was wrong. Hallie could smell it in the air, taste it on her tongue with every word she spoke. What was this about? Andora?

 

Or … could she know?

 

“How can I serve, my lord?” Hallian asked, doing her best to keep her voice calm and measured.

 

“It’s come to my attention that there have been attempts to access certain records in various Imperial databases.”

 

Hallie felt her stomach knot. Siphon knew.

 

She debated her options. She could feign ignorance, protest that the queries hadn’t come from her. After all, she had been careful to slice the Imperial archives to mask any trace of her identity in the search. But Siphon was at her door, in her quarters. What were the chances she would be here if she did not already know? The odds that Hallie would be believed now were slim to none.

 

It was time to come clean.

 

“My lord, forgive my curiosity. It’s just … something Pike said to me trying to take over the ops center … I couldn’t help myself.”

 

Hallie wanted to kick herself; even to herself, the explanation sounded feeble and clumsy.

 

“So … you won’t pretend innocence. You have good sense, Agent, that’s what I’ve always liked about you. You always were smart enough to know when you could seize advantage, and humble enough to know when you’d been outplayed.”

 

Hallie swallowed with some difficulty; her throat felt parched and dry.

 

“I’m afraid though … that I simply can’t have my own people sticking their noses in places where they don’t belong.”

 

“ … m-my lord?”

 

The surge of Siphon’s lightsaber activating echoed in her ears as the energy blade bathed Hallie’s room in crimson light, blocking the door.

 

This isn’t happening.

 

Hallie stumbled backwards, edging away from Siphon with futile despair. “N-no, my lord. Please. I … I made a mistake, it won’t happen again. I assure you, I swear!”

 

“Some things can’t be taken back, Agent Quen. No matter how much you want it. How hard you try.”

 

Hallie’s hands reflexively went to her hip in search of her blaster pistol; they found nothing. She had left all her weapons at her console, which now stood longingly across the room from her, behind Siphon. There was nothing nearby that she could use as a weapon, nothing she saw that she could use to defend herself, and with every backwards step she took, Siphon advanced, robes fluttering from the breeze that blew in through the open balcony doors.

 

She felt her back hit the wall.

 

“I’ll make it quick, Agent. In light of your years of superb service.”

 

If only she could escape, could fly from this place. But Siphon had her trapped.

 

I’m going to die. Just like Nyseria. Just like ...

 

Siphon raised her blade up high.

 

Vandal Pike’s words echoed in her mind. “ … She will betray you too.”

 

She hated that those would be the last words she would ever hear.

 

“STOP!”

 

Andora burst from his hiding place, crimson lightsaber flashing in a wide arc to attack his own master. Siphon whirled around to engage her new opponent, parrying the twi’lek’s attacks with uncanny ease.

 

“Two traitors? No matter. You’ve failed me too many times Andora. Your death will be a fitting punishment and a warning to the rest of the Lords in my service.”

 

“Hallie, run!”

 

She hesitated for only a moment. Andora screamed at her again: “Fool! Get out of here before it’s too late!”

 

She listened.

 

Hallie ducked out onto the balcony; behind her, she could hear Siphon and Andora’s lightsabers whirling and clashing in violent dissent. Eyes darting across the floor, she found what she had been looking for: a grappling gun. She picked it up and then glanced across the other side of the canyon; it would be just long enough. Hands shaking uncontrollably, she somehow managed to aim and fire the grappling hook into the side of the canyon wall.

 

She undid her belt and then slipped it over the grapple and then wrapped each end around her wrist as tightly as she could manage. With only a single glance backwards to see Siphon and Andora still fighting, she took a deep breath and then jumped.

 

End of Part Three

Edited October 17, 2015 by wangxiuming

[RikeG]

Well, Syphon is overly paranoid, isn't she? I wonder what she has to hide?

 

And now, she has lost Hallie, will be killing Andora and Rend might side with Hallie. That's from bad to worse in a Kaggath.

[wangxiuming]

 

Well, Syphon is overly paranoid, isn't she? I wonder what she has to hide?

 

And now, she has lost Hallie, will be killing Andora and Rend might side with Hallie. That's from bad to worse in a Kaggath.

 

Exactly! Whatever she's hiding, Siphon apparently thinks it's worth risking her already-precarious situation in the Kaggath ...

 

Edited October 22, 2015 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Part Four: Hypocrite

Chapter 10

 

The whirring roar of a jetpack sent Tosin ducking to hide behind a power converter atop the building just across from the ruins of Vandal Pike’s warehouse. Someone had come, someone had finally arrived to survey the scene of his crime. He prayed it was Pike, crossed his fingers that it would not be another incompetent Imperial investigator or worse - looters and scavengers.

 

He felt disgusted with himself, like a dog luring its owner back to a pile of its own excrement dropped in the middle of the living room, unabashed and brazen. This was not how a Sith did battle.

 

That he was forced to such desperate measures proved how dangerous Vandal Pike really was. Twice he had faced the bounty hunter now, and twice he had failed to defeat him. There was no longer room for error. Darth Siphon had made that perfectly clear.

 

Tosin debated contacting Hallie for a moment, before deciding it would be better not to risk losing Pike again. He would have good news to report the next time he contacted Twinspire Keep.

 

He pushed himself forward to glance downward over the edge of the roof, careful to not allow himself to be seen. The figure of Vandal Pike paced restlessly before the rubble that was once his property. It was him. It had to be: the armor, the equipment … the lightsaber that hung from his belt. Somehow, Tosin wasn’t surprised the bounty hunter had already managed to replace the blade. This one was curved, with the trappings of a Sith weapon.

 

Tosin made a silent promise that he would claim the lightsaber off Vandal Pike’s corpse: the last corpse the bounty hunter would ever leave behind.

 

He inhaled sharply, preparing to strike.

 

Then, his portable com went off in his ear. “Lord Rend. You have new orders. Return to Twinspire immediately.”

 

It was Siphon.

 

“Master, I finally have Vandal Pike in my sights,” he whispered urgently into his comlink. “I am about to --”

 

“Forget the bounty hunter! I have bigger concerns now.”

 

Bigger concerns? He balked. “My lord?”

 

“Lord Andora and Agent Quen have proven themselves traitors. Andora is dead. Quen is still on the run. I want her corpse brought back to me, now.”

 

Rend stood flabbergasted. Hallian and Andora, traitors? It wasn’t possible … “My lord, there must be some mistake.This has to be some plot by Orthas to turn us against each--”

 

“Do not question me! Return to Twinspire, now.”

 

The line went dead. Lord Rend glanced down one last time to see Vandal Pike rummaging through the wreckage and debris. He felt his chance at revenge, his opportunity for vindication against Pike, slip out of his grasp. Even so, that was nothing compared to the sense of loss he felt. He had come to like Agent Quen, had come to rely on her even, to trust her instincts and her skills. They had fought alongside each other against Pike; she had been instrumental in saving Lord Lethe’s life. For her to have betrayed them all …

 

Loss gave way to anger. Had she and Andora made a fool out of him? Had they been traitors all along, or had they decided Siphon’s cause was hopeless and turned against him?

 

Whatever the reason, only Quen could reveal the truth now. Rend had his orders; he would return to Twinspire.

 

He would make the traitors pay.

 

* * * * *

 

5 Years Prior

 

Tosin attacked.

 

His lightsaber moved awkwardly and with little precision or power. Even he could sense it. His master batted the blade out of his hand easily.

 

“Too conventional.” Masked and robed, his master moved with preternatural grace. “Ataru demands innovation, demands raw aggression, demands the extreme. Come, again. Again!”

 

Tosin picked up his blade from where it had landed and then twisted into a backwards leap meant to catch his master by surprise, saber thrumming as he soared through the air. Siphon parried the blow easily and then slammed her free hand downward, invoking the Force to duplicate the motion with Tosin’s whole body.

 

“Where is the fire in your attacks? Where is your passion?!”

 

He picked himself up, but this time he did not attack right away. He took in his surroundings - the ritual chamber, the banners that stretched from floor to ceiling in a circle around them, the raised dais and the pillars supporting the stone roof above them. The fountains that encircled the chamber, filling the room with the sound of rain.

 

An idea formed in his mind.

 

He launched himself into the air, letting momentum guide his spinning strike. His master’s saber clashed with his own, but Tosin was ready. He flipped backwards and summoned the Force; the Imperial banners all around them began to flutter about wildly, as though caught in an artificial maelstrom. The crimson cloth danced in the air, obscuring Tosin’s view of his master but providing him ample cover from being seen as well.

 

“Excellent … use your surroundings. Make them your weapons!” said Siphon.

 

Tosin shimmied up a pillar with Force-empowered strides of his legs. His muscles cried out with pain and exhaustion but he steeled his resolve. From the top of the column, he searched for his master; impossible to be seen, but that meant his master wouldn’t be able to see him either. Drawing from the reserves of his strength, he tore a fountain from its very foundation and then slammed it downwards, dashing its contents all across the floor.

 

“What are you planning, apprentice?”

 

His only response was to jut out his arm, sending a torrent of Force lightning into the water; the electricity rippled across the water’s surface and he heard his master cry out in pain. He’d done it! He launched himself off the stone pillar, saber humming as he dove towards the source of the scream.

 

Mid-air, he felt the weight of a mountain collide with him from all sides.

 

Tosin expected to fall, expected to collapse into the water he had electrified but moments earlier, but the descent never came. Instead, his feet struggled to find purchase against only air as he felt his chest tighten and compress, victim to his master’s crushing Force. He wanted to speak, but only meaningless gasps and grunts escaped his lips.

 

“Cleverness is no substitute for raw power, apprentice. Not when your deceptions are so easily unraveled.”

 

And then, the strain was gone. His body collapsed into the shallow pool of water, too weak to move or to resist.

 

He still had so much to learn.

 

“Remember these lessons, apprentice … or you will not have any hope of surviving the last of your trials.”

 

“But … I failed,” said Tosin. Even the effort of those three words seemed almost beyond him.

 

“You didn’t defeat me, yes. But that was never the task that I set upon you.” Siphon paused for a moment. “I want you to be among my most powerful servants. I know you have the potential, but something holds you back.”

 

“Whatever it is … cast it aside,” Siphon continued. “The Sith have no use for morality or for inhibition … and I have no use for an apprentice that still ascribes to such naive notions.”

 

Slowly, his strength returned to him. Tosin pushed himself up. “I understand, master.”

 

A cold snicker emitted from behind Siphon’s mask. “We shall see, won’t we?”

 

* * * * *

 

3637 BBY

 

Hallie ached all over, both mind and body on the verge of collapse. She hadn’t had a moment’s sleep in over twenty-four hours now. Adrenaline had pushed her to escape the canyon and steal a hoverbike into New Adasta. Now, presented with the opportunity to catch her breath, exhaustion began to set in.

 

“Mmpph!”

 

Hallie hovered over a computer console in a Czerka Arms security station nestled deep in the slums of Ziost’s capital city. Behind her, two guards struggled uselessly to free themselves from the durasteel stun-cuffs binding their feet together and their hands behind their backs. Outside their hole in the wall, the slums’ marketplace bustled with seedy and questionable patrons of illicit merchandise; Hallie watched through one-way tinted glass as mercenaries mingled with beggars and the destitute, unaware that they had a one-woman audience.

 

Her mind raced in a desperate attempt to process what had transpired over the last night. Siphon had tried to kill her. If it wasn’t for Andora, Hallie might already be dead. Based on their last exchange, Hallie felt certain the Darth would not be content to let her escape.

 

Part of her wished she could go back. To find some way and fight alongside Andora. In her gut, she knew the twi’lek was dead; how horribly she had misjudged him. He gave his life for hers. And now … a storm of emotions threatened to overwhelm her focus: regret, at having not stayed to offer aid; shame, at having judged the twi’lek Sith so poorly in both character and intelligence; guilt, at having brought Siphon’s wrath upon him.

 

Clearly, she had stumbled onto something Siphon hadn’t wanted anyone to know: her gut told her it was the Darth’s history. Somewhere in those lost files was a secret Siphon didn’t want anyone to know … and Hallie was beginning to suspect it was also the reason Darth Orthas’ apprentice had lost her life.

 

She wouldn’t let her feelings overtake her. If she wanted to survive, she had only one option: discover the nature of Siphon’s secret and threaten to reveal it to the galaxy if anything should happen to her. It was her only choice: fight to survive.

 

She had no illusions about being able to fend off Siphon indefinitely, and she had no intention of slinking into obscurity to live in hiding like any common criminal. Besides, leveraging information was her specialty.

 

This isn’t any different than a dozen missions I’ve executed over the years, she told herself.

 

Of course, none of those operations involved blackmailing her own Sith Lord employer ...

 

“Czerka HQ to Station Three, status?”

 

****. Czerka Security. Fingers tap-dancing over the computer’s keyboard with uncanny precision, Hallie pulled up the audio file she had manipulated after incapacitating the guards.

 

“Station Three reports all clear.” The sound of one of her captive guard’s voices emitted from the console’s speakers over muffled objections in the background. It hadn’t been hard to tap into the audio recordings taken by the station’s datalogs, but pulling one over on Czerka was the easy part.

 

“Good,” came the reply from over the com. “And Beckett, you really oughtta get that cold checked out.”

 

Hallie recognized the name of one of the guards she had incapacitated. She pulled up another file, and played a short response: “Yes, sir.”

 

There was no further coms activity. Hallie sighed with relief. The last thing she needed was Czerka Corporation security chasing her down too.

 

“RRrrmphh!”

 

Pausing for a moment, Hallie considered the situation. The guards’ efforts might’ve been futile, but their incessant sniveling might still attract unwanted attention. “Sorry, boys. But you’re starting to get a little rowdy, and I’d really rather not have to tie more of you up.”

 

She injected the pair with sleeping agents, knocking them out cold. For a moment, she envied them their sleep, how good it would feel to escape the troubles of a conscious mind ...

 

But there was still work to do - and she would only have a few hours before the next Czerka duty shift arrived to relieve her prisoners. She still had to slice the terminals and initiate remote access into the one place she hadn’t already searched for Siphon’s records: Imperial Intelligence archives.

 

This particular security station had once been an Imperial Intelligence outpost; it was why she chose it. Czerka coopted the structure for their own purposes after Imperial Intelligence was disbanded by the Dark Council, but the data and archival architecture of her old employer could still be accessed here.

 

If she wanted to uncover Siphon’s secret, there was no time to lose. She had a piece of the puzzle: Siphon’s name from before her rise. Tallis Fell. The archives gave her a chance to bring everything her treacherous master wanted to hide into the light.

 

Rest was a luxury she could not afford.

Edited March 26, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 11

 

5 Years Prior

 

At last: the day of his final trial. At last, Tosin would be able to throw aside the rank of apprentice and ascend to the rank of Lord. All he needed to do was to pass this final test.

 

Tosin glanced around; he recognized only a few of the dozen faces. A twi’lek by the name of Andora stood with an air of brazen confidence, arms folded across his chest. A dark-skinned human woman he recognized only because they often passed each other in the halls stood off to the side, her face a steel trap for any emotion, appearing entirely nonchalant. Tosin wondered if she felt the same on the inside.

 

The rest of the apprentices, Tosin did not know. Some wore hoods, while others were entirely masked. They each waited with varying degrees of anticipation and dread. One of the masked apprentices even dared to tremble; how he had survived to this point, Tosin could only guess.

 

Peace is a lie. There is only passion.

 

They had gathered in the canyon below Twinspire Keep. The towers of their stronghold loomed high and out of reach above them, distant and cold. The wind howled through the canyon; no other noise could be heard other than the restless pacing of a few of the apprentices.

 

Above them, Darth Siphon stood on a small stone formation jutting out from the canyonside, flanked by the half-cyborg Sith Lord, Hysteria, and the peerless duelist, Lord Vestral. Rend’s master surveyed her gathered apprentices wordlessly, while Hysteria licked her lips in anticipation of the carnage that was no doubt about to take place.

 

The earth of the mountainside was devoid of any life; sand and stone would be the only interlopers to their contest, whatever it was that their master had planned.

 

He felt adrenaline course through his veins, echoed by a surge of fear.

 

“It is time.” Siphon lifted her arms into the air and spoke, her distorted voice echoing through the canyon. “I congratulate you, devoted apprentices, for having survived this long. Now is the final test to your training. For some, this will be an opportunity to ascend above your current station. For others ... a last chance to demonstrate something of worth.”

 

Siphon continued. “You have been paired with a single partner. You will duel to the death. Only the survivor is worthy of remaining in my service. Only the victor can hope to be a lord of the Sith.”

 

Tosin glanced around, wondering who he would be forced to face. Knowing his master, it would be someone who would test the limits of his strength and his resolve.

 

Hysteria stepped forward, her cybernetic enhancements glinting in the sunlight. “Coordinates are being transmitted to you now. Head to the specified location; your opponent will do the same. Once you’ve entered within a hundred meter perimeter of the battlegrounds, everything is fair play. Nothing is off limits.”

 

“Show us your power,” she continued. “Show us your ambition.”

 

Vestral stepped forward to conclude the speech.

 

“... show us you have what it takes to be Sith.”

 

* * * * *

 

Tosin grunted as he pushed himself up over the edge of a vast plateau nestled in the midst of the canyon like an island parting a river. He was not surprised to see that his opponent had already arrived - Tosin had taken his time, hoping to be able to meet his enemy along the way in an effort to observe his personality, behavior, and potential weaknesses. He recognized his opponent now - it was the masked Sith who had visibly trembled with fear during their master’s pronouncement.

 

This was to be his opponent? Had the fear Tosin saw earlier been a ruse, designed to lower one’s guard and draw an enemy into the dangerous trap of underestimation?

 

Instantly, Tosin was on guard. From a distance, he watched as his opponent waited in the center of the mesa, lightsaber activated and ready. He held the blade in both hands in a stance Tosin did not recognize.

 

Was this Juyo? Soresu? Ataru?

 

The fact that he could not tell only raised the hairs on Tosin’s neck higher.

 

“What’s your name?” Tosin called out as he approached slowly. “If we are to fight to the death, it seems only appropriate that we know who is about to become the other’s murderer.”

 

There was no reply.

 

“I am Tosin,” he offered, still circling the masked apprentice before him. The man seemed to shrink into himself at Tosin’s self-introduction. Something about him seemed familiar, like they might have met each other before, but Tosin couldn’t quite place it, not behind a mask. He would have to rely on the man to offer up his own name.

 

What came out from behind his opponent’s mask was no name, not even a language that Tosin could understand. No, it sounded more like a whine … a pleading whimper, made in desperation by an animal that perhaps understood its impending slaughter.

 

Frustration sparked in his chest. What game was his opponent playing? Or did the game belong to their master?

 

“Is this how you want our fight to be?” Tosin asked. “Are you still attempting to lull me into a false sense of security? Or are you too much of a coward to offer your own name?!”

 

Another pathetic mewl escaped his masked opponent’s lips.

 

Tosin gritted his teeth. “Have it your way. Don’t worry - I won’t hold back!”

 

Electricity streamed from his fingertips in a downpour meant to swallow the masked apprentice whole, but the apprentice reacted with great speed to bring his saber up to absorb the shock. Tosin didn’t want to give his opponent a single moment to recover, launching into a flying spin, lightsaber whirling forward to drive into his opponent’s chest. His enemy countered with unnatural agility, a strangled battlecry emitting from behind the mask as he parried Tosin’s lightsaber and then swerved into a counterattack.

 

They traded blows for several rounds, all of which failed to land. It almost felt like Tosin was being toyed with; all of his attacks were repelled but only at the last second - just close enough to make him think he was about to seize victory only to have it snatched away. And yet, Tosin’s gut told him his opponent was not particularly skilled. Every swipe, every slash and parry made by the masked apprentice came with a cry or yelp, almost as though he felt surprise at his own movements. His steps and stance were also conspicuously awkward; though Tosin finally felt certain the apprentice had entered Soresu, his movements jutted about almost like a droid’s. There was no grace to them, no flow.

 

What was going on? How was this fool deflecting all his attacks?

 

“Enough! I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m ending this battle, now.”

 

Tosin lifted his hand, palm facing the masked apprentice. From the well of strength within him, he summoned the Force, commanded it to crush his opponent from within.

 

The apprentice should have gasped for air, should have started clawing at his neck and headpiece in a desperate attempt to loosen the stranglehold Tosin had on his windpipe. Tosin heard his enemy’s breath wheeze in terror, saw him try to bring his hands up to his throat, lightsaber still activated … only to then lunge forward with impossible decisiveness, saber humming through the air with deadly intent.

 

It was impossible. How could he have succumbed to Tosin’s assault, only to then shrug it off in seconds --

 

Tosin realized too late that he had dropped his guard; the shock of watching his opponent disregard his attack had taken him by surprise. His arm lifted his own lightsaber in defense - but it moved as though through molasses, impossibly slow - too slow to parry the rapidly-approaching blade.

 

And then the lightsaber stopped dead in its tracks, centimeters from his throat.

 

Was this mercy? Mercy, from a Sith? No … more like a ruse, a play, a move in a game that Tosin still did not understand. “What are you waiting for? Enough with the games!”

 

That’s when he noticed the masked apprentice’s arms tightening, squeezing the lightsaber, pushing against it but seemingly unable to force it into Tosin’s neck, as though some invisible barrier blocked its passage. Desperate mewls escaped from his opponent, helpless to end the duel.

 

The masked apprentice offered no mercy. He wanted to kill Tosin, of that there was no doubt.

 

Tosin glanced downwards to the blade still mere centimeters from his throat. He followed the lightsaber’s path down to the hilt, where the apprentice’s grip trembled with futile exertion. He saw what he had missed earlier in the heat of battle. A chain from the lightsaber’s pommel connected to his opponent’s gauntlet, binding the weapon to the wielder, tying them to each other, intertwining their fates.

 

Tosin stepped back slowly, careful to see if his opponent would complete his attack; he didn’t. Instead the apprentice collapsed to his knees in defeat. His hands didn’t follow him, remaining hanging in the air as though held by an unseen force.

 

His opponent was no more than a puppet.

 

“Don’t you see, favored of my disciples? Do you not yet comprehend the nature of your test?”

 

Siphon’s voice rang in his ear. Tosin hadn’t even seen or heard her approach; it was as though she stepped from the shadows, an illusion herself, brought to life by her distorted voice. Always masked, always mysterious … always powerful.

 

“I don’t … I don’t understand, Master. Why … why is this my opponent? Why did you stop him from striking me down, or … why did you rig this trial in my favor?”

 

“Have I?” asked Siphon, her tone filled with mock curiosity. “Unmask your opponent, and everything will become clear.”

 

Gingerly, Tosin did as Siphon commanded, prying the rusted metal mask from his opponent’s face. As Tosin’s eyes fell upon the unveiled visage, both the mask and his lightsaber slipped from his fingers, hitting the plateau with dull thuds.

 

“… Brother.”

 

* * * * *

 

3637 BBY

 

Siphon had expunged or redacted nearly all records referring to her history before her ascension to Lord. Digging through the data was like peeling an endless onion; layer after layer would fall away, only to reveal yet another layer and without any semblance of answers.

 

That was why Hallie wanted to search through her old employer’s datafiles; in particular because much of the information would be out of date - and thus less likely to have been subjected to redaction. She prayed that Siphon would not have bothered to filter through the entirety of the information Imperial Intelligence had assembled in its time under Darth Jadus …

 

She sliced the Czerka security console easily enough and rerouted its processors to activate the old Imperial Intelligence protocols. Slicing the old archives was like navigating an old but familiar maze; she knew all the turns to make, all the obstacles that would present themselves, all the protocols to get where she needed to go.

 

Gaining access was easy. The hard part came next.

 

Imperial Intelligence, in its heydey, kept tabs on virtually every element of Imperial life. Its various bureaus effectively and ruthlessly administered the will of the Emperor - or perhaps more accurately - the will of whomever Imperial Intelligence backed on the Dark Council. Nothing was above their concern, including promising sith apprentices, and rising sith lords.

 

If Hallie hoped to find a trace of Siphon’s history, this was her best hope. Still, with only a single name and no physical appearance to act as confirmation, Hallie had her work cut out for her. Running ‘Tallis Fell’ through the databanks returned hundreds of results. Deciding to focus on the Darth’s origins, Hallie further limited her query by the time periods Siphon likely would have resided at the Sith Academy on Korriban based on the timing of her ascension to Darth.

 

Sixty-six records remained for her to peruse.

 

Hallie went through half of them in three hours without coming across any details that would suggest links to Siphon. The process was grueling, especially on an empty stomach and after an especially trying day. But finally, she found a hint of what she sought.

 

“What have we here?” she mumbled to herself as she speed-read through the document. “An unfinished report to the Director concerning up and coming Lords …”

 

Tallis Fell was on the list.

 

The rest of the two-hundred page report was oddly inconsistent. At times the report referred to accomplishments earned by Tallis Fell, a female human slave who had been sent to Korriban after her force-sensitivity was discovered on Ziost. Occasionally, the name Tanis Fell turned up, also from Ziost. A sister, perhaps?

 

Midway through the report, Hallie found a record of Tanis Fell’s death, assassinated by another aspiring Sith apprentice. The cause of death listed was electrocution. From then on, only Tallis’ name ever appeared again.

 

From that point on, the report began accrediting Tallis with accomplishments Hallie was certain she had read to be those of Tanis. She had to scroll back about fifty pages to verify it, but she was right. Whoever had drafted this report had conflated Tallis and Tanis Fell, mixing their histories. At first, Hallie suspected incompetence - a sloppy work ethic as was increasingly common during the waning years of Imperial Intelligence. But then, a thought crossed her mind.

 

… could it be?

 

Footsteps sounded out from outside, approaching the door to the station. Hallie scrambled to get behind it, cursing beneath her breath as she picked up a blaster pistol she had disarmed from the station guards. The next duty shift wasn’t supposed to start for another two hours. She was so close to an answer; she just needed more time!

 

Whoever it was that approached the door, it became abundantly clear they were not Czerka. They didn’t bother trying to hail the guards that should have been inside, nor did they attempt to unlock the security clearance.

 

She had sliced the security door to remain locked, but that was a delaying tactic at best. She debated her best course of action: attempt to disable whoever was trying to enter the station, or smash the tinted windows and flee. So close to her goal, Hallie wrestled with herself for a critical second.

 

A surge of brilliant red light penetrated the door: a lightsaber. It could only be Siphon. She had found her. Hallie needed to escape.

 

She fired five shots at the glass, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Outside, a crowd screamed with surprise at the sudden violence. Hallie didn’t bother looking back and instead made a break to leap through the shattered window.

 

Just as her legs soared over the windowsill, she felt something twist from within her, tug at her navel, and then jerk with tremendous force. She sailed backwards through the air, pulled by an unseen puppeteer back into the security station, her knee slamming into the computer console as her attacker forcibly turned her to face him.

 

It was Tosin, his face composed of desperate fury. He had cut his way through the door with his lightsaber, the edges of the gaping hole still burning crimson and saffron.

 

“You’re dead, traitor.”

Edited March 26, 2016 by wangxiuming

[Lunafox]

I have to say, I really enjoyed the way you described Tosin's trial to become a Lord. Also the imagery and dialogue are well done too. I like the way the other apprentices' reactions were portrayed in anticipation of the trial. Great stuff, looking forward to more!

[wangxiuming]

I have to say, I really enjoyed the way you described Tosin's trial to become a Lord. Also the imagery and dialogue are well done too. I like the way the other apprentices' reactions were portrayed in anticipation of the trial. Great stuff, looking forward to more!

 

Thanks for your kind words! Actually, Siphon's other apprentices were originally meant to be throwaway characters, but as I involved them in more scenes, I discovered I enjoyed working them into the story more and more.

[wangxiuming]

 

Suggested Accompanying Music: Anakin’s Betrayal - Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith Soundtrack

 

Chapter 12

 

5 Years Prior

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t discover your secret, apprentice?” asked Siphon. “You should know better by now: secrets are powerful only when you are their sole keeper. Otherwise, they are a weakness to be exploited.”

 

His master’s words rang in his ear, chilling and contemptuous, but they could not drown out Tosin’s thoughts or pierce the wave of pain circling through his skull as he tried to unify understanding with reality. His mind raced back to five years prior: the night Siphon had dispatched him to slay his own brother as a demonstration of his resolve. He had almost done it, had almost taken Torio’s life, but at the last second … he lost his nerve. He held back. He told his brother and his wife to run, to flee, and returned to Siphon spinning a false tale of his victory.

 

Had Siphon always known? Had she ever believed his lie?

“You must learn to guard your confidences more carefully, apprentice. Knowledge known only to one keeper can be the key to unimaginable power.”

 

Tosin ignored her, focusing on his brother. “Torio, why didn’t you run? Why are you still on the planet, what are you doing here?”

 

“He can’t answer you, apprentice,” said his master. “I’m afraid the last few years have been unkind to your brother.”

 

Tosin looked down upon his brother’s desperate face, mouth hanging open, drool leaking onto his chin. He now saw why his brother hadn’t responded during their fight, why he could manage only blubbering snivels. They had cut out his tongue.

 

“What did you to him?!”

 

“What did we do?” Siphon laughed. Distorted by the voice modulator behind her golden mask, her merriment sent a shiver down Tosin’s spine. “You mean what you did, apprentice. If you had only done as you were tasked all those years ago, you might’ve spared your brother and his family so much suffering. You might have prevented his wife losing the last spark of compassion in her eyes as she watched her husband prostrate himself to save his own hide. You might have saved him the agony that was watching her die.”

 

Tosin glanced from his master to his brother, horror seeping into his very soul. Part of him wanted to attack his master, to give in to the pounding drive for vengeance still coursing through his body -- anything to replace the unbearable knowledge that he was the cause for all his brother’s grief.

 

The other part though, the stronger half, was comprised entirely of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of losing his own life to his master in a contest he could not hope to win. Fear that everything he had worked for would be for nothing. Everything he had sacrificed, all the atrocities he had committed in pursuit of elevation - thrown to the wind.

 

Yaraline’s words reverberated in his mind. “ … you coward.”

 

It was true. He was a coward. He was so afraid, always afraid. Always terrified that they would see through the mask he wore, as sure as Siphon did; a masquerade that painted him Sith. In his heart of hearts he knew it to be a lie. He was no Sith. He was a pretender. A fake.

 

“Do you see now the nature of your trial?” his master asked. “You’ve disappointed me once already. Will you fail again?”

 

Tosin’s hands trembled; he couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard he tried.

 

“Still hesitating? Are you perhaps debating whether the apprentice can overcome the master? Allow me to assure you: in that, you will most certainly fail.”

 

Of that, Tosin had no doubt. They were still leagues apart; he would not be able to defeat his master …

 

… but maybe he would be able to buy enough time for his brother to escape.

 

He picked up his lightsaber, activated it, and then turned to face his master.

 

Siphon clicked her tongue with disappointment, more amused than surprised. “Such a waste … and you had so much potential.”

 

“Torio … run,” Tosin said to his brother. “Get out of here while you can, I’ll … I’ll hold her off.”

 

His master cackled with delight. “Shall we put your bravado to the test?”

 

Tosin screamed his fury, his rage. Channeling his hatred, he darted forward through Force-empowered bursts of speed only to withdraw at the last second, throwing up grey canyon dust all around them as he danced across the plateau. He moved with purposeful eccentricity, a ploy meant to confuse his master and buy his brother time.

 

“Your tactics are easily deciphered,” his master lectured. “They need work. Subterfuge in the midst of combat is only worth the effort if you have a reasonable chance of success.”

 

Tosin pivoted against his last step, blade swinging in an upward arc aimed to cleave the masked figure before him in two. His master sidestepped the attack easily, and then shifted into Makashi to pepper Tosin with lightning fast and immaculately precise thrusts; it was all Tosin could do just to parry and dodge the barrage of attacks, much less counter.

 

“Your talent with the lightsaber - or lack thereof - was never what I sought to develop. Come, Tosin! You can’t really think you’re going to defeat me this way.”

 

He didn’t expect to win at all. He just needed to buy Torio enough time to escape, to give him a chance for freedom; maybe in some small way that would make up for everything his brother had suffered.

 

Tosin empowered his steps to break free of his master’s lightsaber barrage. The second he landed, he flung his lightsaber in a wide arc; it spun end to end with vicious intent to strike at Siphon. His master wasn’t the least bit phased. She smacked Tosin’s saber away with her own blade, sending it hurtling over the edge of the cliff.

 

But Tosin could tell Siphon hadn’t expected what would follow. He never expected his lightsaber to return to him.

 

The minute his lightsaber left his grip, Tosin summoned the Force to hurl a torrent of azure lightning at his master. Caught by surprise, Siphon barely brought her lightsaber back in time to shield herself from the blast. Even so, Tosin poured the entire weight of his rage into his assault; for the first time since they had met, he saw his master’s lightsaber wobble.

 

This was his chance. He couldn’t hold back now, he wouldn’t. From the last well of strength within him, he charged his right hand with as much power as it could muster. It crackled with the weight of the Force behind it, ready to send a second stream of unrelenting electricity to devour his master whole.

 

From behind him, he sensed murderous intent.

 

Torio.

 

Why wasn’t he running? Why hadn’t he fled?

 

His brother raised his lightsaber high into the air.

 

“What are you doing?!”

 

Darth Siphon howled with glee.

 

Still channeling electricity to keep Siphon at bay, it was all Tosin could do to redirect the power he had drawn using his right hand towards stopping his brother’s lightsaber; a groan burst from his lips with the exertion. Force met lightsaber, the only evidence of their clash appearing in the brilliant white sparks that showered onto the earth from their invisible point of contact. Torio’s crimson blade, just centimeters from his hand, struggled to break the veil of energy absorption, just as Tosin’s lightning flickered wildly across the plateau only to be absorbed into Siphon’s own blade.

 

“Spectacular, apprentice.” His master’s laughter echoed across the canyon, unabashed in its delight. “Simply magnificent!”

 

“Torio, stop!”

 

But his brother shook his head. He wouldn’t stop; Torio withdrew his lightsaber only to swing back at a different angle.Tosin didn’t have the strength to resist a second blow through the Force alone, he barely had the strength to keep standing. Releasing his hold on the Force, he lept backwards to safety - his endurance all but spent - as he glanced between his master and his brother, weaponless and alone.

 

“Please. Go, before it’s too late.”

 

“Don’t you see?” his master asked. “He knows what you have failed to understand. Either you kill him … or he will kill you.”

 

“Brother. Don’t do this.”

 

Siphon roared, “He is your betrayer! He would have taken from you everything you worked for. He would have struck you down even after you spared him time and again.”

 

Torio whimpered; for a second, his face revealed a look reminiscent of a fearful dog, broken by abuse and torture, desperate for a savior, all but daring to hope that rescue would arrive.

 

Then, it was gone.

 

His brother lunged forward, more quickly than Tosin anticipated, saber grasped awkwardly in his hands, ready to swing. Tosin’s mind raced; in just a few more steps, his brother would cut him down. What options did he have left? What stratagems, what ploys could he still --

 

His master spoke quietly, but they reverberated into Tosin’s very core. “Strike him down, apprentice.”

 

There has to be another way.

 

“Use the Force. Give in to your emotions.”

 

He is my brother.

 

“He betrays you with every step he takes.”

 

He is … my betrayer.

 

“Don’t let him steal from you your title. Don’t let him take from you all that you have achieved. You are Sith.”

 

After I spared him all those years ago. After I tried to help him now ...

 

“There is only power! There is only victory!”

 

Tosin roared, frustration and desperation overwhelming his reason. He wouldn’t let himself be killed by a traitor. It couldn’t end like this.

 

Not like this.

 

Renewed fury replenished his strength as adrenaline surged through him. Reaching through the Force, he snatched the lightsaber out of his attacker’s hands. It was easy. The betrayer was helpless to break free from his own momentum; in one swift motion, Tosin angled the stolen lightsaber straight into his opponent’s path.

 

The betrayer gasped as he skewered himself upon his own weapon. Rend watched as his brother’s eyes widened with … shock? No. Pain, perhaps, but not surprise. They looked as though Torio had expected it to happen this way. As though he knew this would be the outcome. Like he had resigned himself to this fate long ago.

 

“Simply magnificent,” whispered Siphon.

 

Rage had departed. So had compassion and sadness. He walked up to his brother an empty well, and pulled the lightsaber from Torio’s chest. He saw the light go out in his brother’s eyes as a corpse fell into his arms. He found himself on his knees, cradling the body, rocking it forward and back. Inside, there was nothing. Emptiness. Oblivion.

 

“He was the only family I had left,” Tosin said calmly. It sounded strange, how calm his voice was. Unnatural. Inhuman.

 

His master knelt down beside him. “He is gone now … but you still have me, apprentice. Your master. Your family. Do you understand?”

 

Tosin nodded, though Siphon’s words barely registered.

 

“I will admit, I was not sure you would pass this test,” his master continued. “But you did. You performed wondrously. Your faithful service to me has not gone unnoticed. Continue to serve me, learn from me, and we will take our rightful place as leaders of this great Empire.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Tosin replied.

 

“Then rise, an apprentice no longer. Rise as Rend, Lord of the Sith.”

 

* * * * *

 

3637 BBY

 

“Tosin, please, you have to listen to me!”

 

Rend didn’t listen. He didn’t want to listen. He needed to act, to punish traitors, to ensure they never threatened him or his master ever again.

 

He had let in another betrayer.

 

The thought burned in his mind, loosening memories he long thought buried, bringing them to the surface where he could not quash them back down, no matter how hard he tried.

 

He flung a jolt of electricity forward, though Agent Quen reacted just as quickly, leaping behind a computer console to protect herself from the surge. The equipment sizzled and shut down as the smell of burnt electronics assailed his nostrils.

 

“You must realize this is futile,” he said. “Come out and face your end.”

 

“That’s not even the least bit convincing, you realize that right?” shouted Hallie. “How did you even find me?”

 

“Your loyal friends back at Twinspire clued us in. Told us you knew of an old Imperial Intelligence outpost out here in the Adastan slums.” Rend arced another blast of lightning in an attempt to strike his opponent from her cover, but again she ducked out of the way just in time, somersaulting behind a second computer station and into temporary safety.

 

“Why did you betray our master? Credits? Influence?” he asked, as he began circling the computer console.

 

“Tosin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whatever --”

 

Fury overwhelmed him as he raced forward and leaped over the console to intercept his target. “Don’t call me that! Don’t you ever call me that again!”

 

There was no one there.

 

“A stealth generator won’t save you!” Rend drew strength from his rage, lashing out wildly with Force lightning, blanketing the entire station in electricity. He heard a cry of pain sound out from the main entrance, watched as Hallian Quen’s stealth generator failed even as she slipped out the door.

 

“NO!” A second focused surge of lightning wasn’t able to catch her, but he wouldn’t give up so easily. He raced outside, close on her heels, just in time to watch her shove aside a zabrak mercenary and hop onto his speeder bike, gun the thrusters, and take off.

 

There were no other vehicles nearby for him to follow; Rend used the Force to empower his steps forward and chase after her. Fortunately, the city infrastructure was dense and necessitated many turns; coupled with the massive crowd, Quen couldn’t get a good lead on him, not yet.

 

If she reached the main roads, however … No. He wouldn’t let her get that far. She had to pay. He would make her pay.

 

Rend leaped high into the air and landed on the ceiling of a row of one-story apartments. From here, his path wasn’t barred by bystanders. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he soon came into range of Quen’s still-moving speeder. He slammed his free hand forward, intending to bring the speeder - and Hallian with it - to a crushing stop. She seemed to sense what he was about to do, however; in one fluid motion, she deftly flipped off of the speeder just as his attack crushed her hijacked speeder against the earth. Without pausing even for a second, she resumed a mad sprint through the alleyways of New Adasta.

 

No.

 

He pursued her through the slums, firing both bolts of lightning and blasts of raw Force in an attempt to disable her. She dodged them all, stopping occasionally only to force him to a halt with a hail of blaster fire, and then resume her flight.

 

They approached an intersection, Rend still leaping from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit of Quen on the ground, but the one-story apartments had come to an end, to be replaced by towering high-rises. Rend needed to stop Hallian here, lest she lose him in the crowd. Once more, he summoned the Force, directing it against a large Czerka Arms billboard and slamming it in a downward angle to block Quen’s path.

 

Quen was quick, but she wasn’t quick enough. The billboard slammed downward so fast, her neck might’ve been crushed had she not pulled back. Instead, she cursed and then took off in the only remaining direction - south … and into a dead end.

 

The alley was empty. Rend leaped downwards and approached calmly, lightsaber still gripped tightly in his hand. Quen was still glancing in all directions, desperate for a way out, but there was none. Her hands gripped her blaster, but the weapon would not save her, Rend knew. Plasteel walls surrounded her at all sides save for his approach; there was no way out.

 

“End of the line.”

 

“Please, To-- Lord Rend,” pleaded Quen. “Whatever Siphon told you about me … it’s a lie.”

 

“Are these your last words then? Better make them good.”

 

“Siphon’s the liar! Siphon’s the traitor! She wants to kill me because I’ve stumbled on her secret, or … part of it. I don’t even know if I know it, really! And she wants to kill me for that!”

 

Rend paused. Could it be true?

 

“You’ll listen then? You have to listen. That day, after the battle with Pike, he said something - he told me that Siphon would betray us all. He told me Orthas’ apprentice - the reason we were dragged into this damned Kaggath - he told me she and Siphon were lovers.”

 

She continued, breath bated, words pouring out of her like a deluge unleashed. “I knew it was dangerous, knew I was playing with fire. But I had to know. So I started a separate investigation while we waited for Pike at his warehouse.”

 

“ … what did you find?” Rend asked. He didn’t know why, but something about the way she spoke, the intensity … or the fear … told him that Hallie was telling the truth.

 

“That’s just it,” she replied. “Orthas had all her records before she became a Darth expunged. I don’t know how she did it, how she would have that kind of access or connection, but … and then. And then, last night. Somehow, she must’ve found out I was looking into her past, looking into her history. She came after me in my own quarters. She tried to kill me! I would be dead now, if Andora hadn’t --”

 

“What were you doing with Andora?”

 

Hallie couldn’t hold back a sob. “We … we were involved. He … I think he gave his life for me.”

 

Rend stood quietly, baffled. He didn’t know how to process this information, if it even meant anything. Why would his master care so much if someone were to look into his history? What did it matter?

 

But then … why would Hallie lie about it? To construct such an elaborate story to … save herself? Rend didn’t buy it. He felt it in his gut; she was telling the truth.

 

“Tosin, please. I didn’t betray you. I didn’t betray Siphon. I just … I made a mistake.”

 

“I …”

 

“Let me go,” Hallie insisted. “I’ll … I’ll go into hiding. I’ll never involve myself with Siphon or you, or anyone here again. You’ll never see or hear from me again.”

 

“Hallie, I …” Something dawned on him then, a nagging sensation he had felt tugging at the back of his mind since Siphon had ordered him to abandon his mission to eliminate Pike. He didn’t put it together until just now, but it seemed clear as day now. This woman who had been his friend ... this cowering, fearful, desperate woman pleading for her life …

 

… Siphon feared her. Siphon was afraid. That was the only rationale, the only logical explanation, why his master had so urgently redirected him to eliminate his own agent. Why she would lie, and say Hallian had betrayed her. She was afraid of what Hallie knew.

 

What could it be?

 

The image of Torio’s body cradled lifeless in his arms flashed before his eyes.

 

“Tosin, I’m just going to walk away now, okay?” Hallie inched past him slowly, cautiously. “We’ll both just walk away. No one has to get h-- UUAAAAGHHH!”

 

Her scream forced him to whirl around.

 

Hallie’s body crumpled to the ground, broken and defeated. From the shadows, Lord Lethe stepped out, hands curled into a cruel fist still emanating residual tremors of her use of the Force. Her eyes, her face: cold and indifferent as she stepped towards Rend.

 

“Are you going to finish her off?”

 

He didn’t know the answer to Lethe’s question. He didn’t know what he wanted to do.

 

He needed time to think.

 

“Well?” asked Lethe, her tone accusatory. “Get it done. Or must I do all the work around here?”

 

Rend paused for only a moment, lightsaber still active in his hand. “No … I’ll finish this. Go on ahead, I’ll --”

 

“I think I’ll wait, if it’s the same to you, Lord Rend. I don’t mind the company.”

 

He seethed as Lethe deflected his attempts to usher her away from Hallian’s unconscious form. “She deserves a proper burial. She did serve Siphon for many years, after all. She saved your life.”

 

“She was a traitor. Her corpse deserves to hang from the gates of Twinspire,” Lethe replied, her tone chillingly stoic. “That’s what Siphon told us. Or are you questioning--”

 

Lethe’s holocom echoed against the alley walls. It was Ravain.

 

“Lord Lethe. And Lord Rend’s with you, good.” His voice sounded urgent.

 

“We’ve captured the traitor, General,” said Lethe. “Lord Rend was just about to execute her.”

 

“Do so quickly. Our spies are reporting that Darth Orthas and his forces are marching on Twinspire as we speak. He’ll reach the stronghold in less than three hours.”

 

“What?” asked Rend. “But his duel with Siphon isn’t supposed to happen for another few days.”

 

The general cursed beneath his breath. “Looks like he’s going back on his word. Get back here, quickly, both of you!”

 

The holocom went dead. Rend glanced to Lethe. “You heard the man. Go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

 

“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, Rend, but --”

 

“No games,” he hissed. “You’re the one wasting time. I’ll finish this, trust me.”

 

Lethe glanced at him, skepticism brimming in her expression, but she did not argue further. Without another word, she whirled around and departed. As her form disappeared into the crowd. Rend turned back to look upon the crumpled body at his feet.

 

Torio’s eyes flashed before him. Why? Who was this woman, but some stranger he had initially found aggravating. Battle and survival had bound them as nothing else could, but that was all. She was not his sister. They did not share skillsets, background or history. They were virtual strangers.

 

And yet, somehow, Tosin felt like she was the closest thing he had come to a friend. More so than the other Sith, beyond his own Master who by all rights was the only family he had left.

 

She had been his friend.

 

He craved that affection. It wasn’t until now that he had known to what extent.

 

But his Master wanted her dead. The Master he had given up everything else for, the Master whose fate had been bound to his own by the Kaggath. The Master that had known every single time he had offered any sliver of mercy to anyone. Could he really risk everything he had worked for, forsake his brother’s sacrifice for this … friend?

 

This was not how a Sith should think. This was not how a Sith should act.

 

Rend raised his lightsaber into the air.

 

End of Part Four

 

Part Five will begin on Friday, October 16 (Pacific Time); chapters will continue to be posted daily through early access of Knights of the Fallen Empire on Tuesday, October 20. Just one week left until the expansion hits! So excited.

Edited March 26, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

It's the last part!

 

Part Five: Impostor

 

Chapter 13

 

Rend stepped through the marble doors leading into the great hall of Twinspire Keep. Giant statues of ancient Dark Lords of the Sith lined a carpeted walkway to the central chamber. He saw that Darth Siphon, General Ravain, and Lord Lethe had already gathered to plan the Keep’s defense. Siphon sat upon her twisted throne, overlooking a console table with a cerulean projection of the Keep and its surrounding areas hovering inches over it. Ravain and Lethe stood at opposite ends; the general shuffled holographic representations of their forces around, going over unit composition, potential weaknesses in their defenses, and possible tactics for the upcoming battle.

 

They all turned to him upon his approach.

 

“Darth Siphon. General,” he greeted with a respectful bow. “Lord Lethe.”

 

“Is it done, Rend? Have you put the traitor down?”

 

He glanced to Lethe momentarily. Her visage was unreadable. “It’s done.”

 

“Did you speak to her beforehand?” Siphon pressed. “Did she say anything to you?”

 

“She … begged for her life.”

 

Rend watched as Siphon’s masked form stood from her throne and approached the console. He glanced to the general; the hover-chair bound form seemed eager to move on to actual stronghold defense, but doubtless had witnessed too many spontaneous executions to be foolish enough to interrupt the Darth.

 

“Nothing else? She didn’t mention anything?”

 

Rend shook his head. He didn’t know if he believed Hallie’s story about Siphon’s actions, but something in his gut told him it would be better not to reveal it.

 

“I will not tolerate treachery. I hope that is clear to every last one of you. I have been too lax, have coddled too much. This is where small mercies lead, where even a hint of kindness will set you down upon: imminent destruction.”

 

Rend suddenly realized with horrifying clarity that he, Lethe, and Ravain were all that remained of Siphon’s significant supporters. There were other apprentices, yes, Imperial soldiers that Siphon could command, but none of any note, or proven mettle.

 

They were the last line of defense. Orthas had all but won, and half their losses had not even been his doing.

 

How could the Empire expect to survive like this? All the infighting, all the fatal ambition that drove the Sith to slay one another. Rituals like the Kaggath, they would spell the end of … everything. Everything the Empire had built. Everything they had achieved...

 

“Orthas really intends to breach the terms of the truce?” asked Rend.

 

“He will do whatever he thinks he can get away with, apprentice. As should we all. Continue with your proposal, General,” said Siphon.

 

“Yes, my lord. A-as I was saying … our position here is untenable. We likely cannot withstand a second assault.”

 

Lethe spoke, quiet and yet boldly certain. “It sounds as though you would have us abandon this fortress.”

 

Rend heard the quake in the man’s voice, no matter how hard he might’ve tried to hide it. “We lost too much in the initial attack. Repairs have not been able to undo the damage. We were relying upon Orthas to keep his word and limit the Kaggath to single combat; with our Master’s individual power, the Kaggath would be won, unquestionably. But as it is now, Orthas approaches with hundreds of soldiers and Sith at his back …”

 

“You were relying upon me to finish this war for you … is that what you’re saying, General?” Siphon’s voice hissed with contempt.

 

“My lord! This conflict with Orthas, it is your own --” But Ravain stopped himself mid-sentence. Rend knew what the general was about to say: the war with Orthas was Siphon’s own doing. He half-expected Siphon to cut the general down then and there. He sincerely hoped his master would not; losing Ravain now would truly leave little hope for victory … or even survival.

 

Thankfully, it seemed even Darth Siphon recognized that fact. Nevertheless, the raw anger in her cold, calculated words could not be hidden. “You will hold this keepl. I don’t care what you have to do to defend it. Splay your body at the gates and let your corpse frighten away Orthas’ soldiers if you must, but you will protect Twinspire. Do you understand?”

 

“I … a-as you wish, Darth Siphon,” Ravain struggled to comply. “We will need to rely upon your battle meditation once more then, my lord. And both Lords Rend and Lethe will need to be on the front lines. Only they can hope to match Orthas’ disci--”

 

“No.” Siphon whirled around, returning to her throne. “Rend and Lethe will remain within the Keep. They will serve as my last line of defense and our best hope to defeat Orthas.”

 

“My lord, why?” asked Ravain. “This is not the time for half-measures and contingencies. If the Keep is to be held, we will need --”

 

“Your job is to keep Orthas’ forces at bay, General; I have no illusions about your ability to defend against Orthas himself. That is why we must separate him from his armies.”

 

“If we can cut him off from his support,” Siphon continued, “Rend and Lethe will ambush him inside the Keep. Bolstered by my battle meditation, they will be able to defeat him.”

 

“I will ensure it, my lord,” said Lethe.

 

“Yes, master.” Rend bowed his head in agreement, though his heart filled with doubt that even united they would be a match for Orthas.

 

“As you w-wish, Darth Siphon.” General Ravain said, resigning himself to Siphon’s plans. “But how will we separate Orthas from his armies?”

 

“Leave that to me, General,” said Siphon.

 

Rend almost couldn’t believe the nonchalance emanating from his master. “That still leaves Orthas’ apprentices and Ve -- Vandal Pike. Without us at the front, General Ravain will be hard-pressed to combat them all --”

 

“Throw the new batch of apprentices at them. They’ll buy us time, if nothing else. And once Orthas is taken care of, the pureblood lords in his service will no longer pose a problem.”

 

“I fear they will not honor the terms of the Kaggath, my lord,” said Ravain. “Even should we cut off the head of the snake, the body remains healthy and strong. What would stop them from overrunning us regardless?”

 

“Arrangements have been made,” replied Siphon. “That’s all you need to know.

 

How could she be so certain?

 

“Go. Make your own preparations. Orthas will arrive within the hour.”

 

* * * * *

 

Rend returned to his quarters.

 

Things were spinning out of control, and yet somehow Siphon seemed immune or dismissive to any thoughts of concern.

 

Nothing made any sense, least of all his decision to hide Vandal Pike’s true identity from his master. The news of Hallie’s treachery had consumed his attention for a long while, but the idea that Siphon’s former apprentice had come back to seek revenge had returned to the forefront of Rend’s concerns ever since he left New Adasta. It was almost certain that the bounty hunter would be on the field during the attack; the only question was where he would be deployed.

 

Why hadn’t he revealed what he had learned to Siphon? He had corrected himself almost by instinct, had lied by omission because … what?

 

He couldn’t explain it at first. At least, not until he glanced outside the window. The gardens outside had been all-but obliterated. Charred stems and ruined foliage reached across the garden ... save for a single golden-petaled flower that had somehow managed to survive the chaos.

 

Guilt and doubt wrapped their arms around his heart then; he could no longer discern their reason or purpose. Did they come to punish him for lying to his master? For betraying a friend? He didn’t know anymore, and that frightened him more than any approaching army could. Fear took hold of him, gripped him from his very core, and chipped away at the foundation of everything he knew.

 

Alone in his room, he gasped for breath that would not come.

 

* * * * *

 

The sky was overcast as it often appeared on Ziost. Darth Orthas glanced upwards from outside the battered gates of Twinspire Keep, taking in the view of both of its soaring towers. Siphon had maintained them in pristine condition, with nary a hint of rust or erosion. They stood in defiance of Ziost’s harsh weather and icy landscape. The rest of the Keep was not so fortunate. Orthas’ attack on the citadel just a few days prior had left its mark. Reconstruction efforts were already underway, but there was still much to be done; rubble to be cleared, architecture to restore, buildings to reinforce.

 

It was work Orthas eagerly looked to relieve from the false Sith.

 

To his left, a line of his most powerful pureblood Sith apprentices arrayed themselves. They carried lightsabers matching their skin, wore ceremonial robes befitting their title, and had all been trained to perfection. How could they not be, after all? They were apprentices made in his own image.

 

To his right, various moffs and the more elite of his hired muscle stood ready for battle. Vandal Pike stood among them, ostensibly a bounty hunter, but one who had offered his services - for a fee, of course - upfront when he heard that Orthas had declared a Kaggath upon Siphon. Orthas suspected revenge to be the hunter’s motive; he hadn’t bothered inquiring about it. The motivations of lesser beings were not his concern.

 

Behind him, his army in its full power, ready to tear down this last vestige of the false sith who had dared to take from Orthas his most favored apprentice. He would see Siphon on her knees, stripped of power and status, shown to all the galaxy as a pretender to the title she bore, just like all of her impure kind.

 

“My lord,” said Lord Astraad, his most ambitious pureblood advisor. “Our probes are reporting the majority of Siphon’s remaining forces have gathered in the Keep’s courtyard, and are prepared to defend it.”

 

The keep’s remaining turrets swiveled in place, watching Orthas’ army for any sign of attack. Orthas was confident that his walkers would be more than capable of handling these middling defenses. He adjusted his traditional Sith finery, removing his hood so that he could taste the biting cold in the air.

 

The front gates opened slowly and from within, a solitary form strode forward to greet him. Dressed in robes as audacious as they were defiant and wearing her golden mask, Siphon approached, unarmed, lightsaber still attached to her belt. Orthas felt his blood surge with anger. Even the woman’s gait brimmed with an irksome impertinence and unabashed brazenness. Siphon needed to learn a lesson in respect.

 

No matter. Orthas would leverage this fury into a weapon. He pulled out his lightsaber and activated it, the gushing sound of its eagerness music to his ears. He brandished the blade with a smile. His enemy had come to meet his doom. Turning back to instruct his forces to hold their positions, he too strode forward to meet Siphon - not close enough to be in striking distance, but enough so that they could hear each other.

 

“My revered colleague, Darth Orthas,” said Siphon as Orthas approached. “Aren’t you a bit early for our duel? Or is your pure-blooded memory not as sharp as it once was?”

 

Orthas swallowed his anger, letting it simmer in the back of his mind. Siphon would soon pay for every irreverent word that escaped her blasphemous lips. “Did you expect me to wait for you to concoct treachery, charlatan? I come to end this charade.”

 

Siphon folded her arms behind her back, pacing a few steps as she took in the sight of Orthas’ army. “ … and yet you arrive with an army. Did we not agree to single combat? Shall I assume you intend to prove to the galaxy your hypocrisy?” Siphon cackled, mocking and contemptuous.

 

“My forces are here to ensure that none among your ranks attempt to defy the terms of the Kaggath. Once your body is but a broken corpse at my feet, I expect there will be quite a few heretics in your service who lack the honor to submit to my judgment.”

 

“Defy the terms of the Kaggath? Are you not violating your own terms now by returning so soon?”

 

Orthas could hear the fear behind Siphon’s words. “Fool. The terms of our duel are as we set them. I have decided to change those terms, because it is within my power to do so.”

 

Siphon’s retort was defiant. “Do you not fear the tittering of the other Sith Lords? What will they think, a pureblood Sith, going back on his word in such a sacred duel?”

 

Orthas smiled. “Go ahead then, Siphon. Appeal to the rest of the rabble to save you. I suspect you will find as much success in that effort as Thanaton did with the Dark Council. How many times did he beg them to intercede against Nox? What fruit did his whining bear?”

 

“Is your analogy not misplaced? You are Thanaton reincarnate: outmoded, trapped in the past by arrogance and tradition. Your kind will soon be extinct. This Kaggath is merely the vehicle with which you will be hastened to that end.”

 

Orthas chuckled, low and quiet. Then, he turned around to face his army. “Warriors! This pretender thinks she is a match for me. I have decided to indulge her hubris. Cut down anyone who attempts to interfere.”

 

He turned back to face Siphon, watched him give similar instructions to his own forces inside the courtyard before turning back as well.

 

“This will be the arena then?” Siphon asked. “Outside the gates of my keep?”

 

“As fitting a place as any, wouldn’t you agree? In full view of both our forces, so that all might know the ending to the Tragedy of Darth Siphon?”

 

“As you wish,” said Siphon, finally pulling out her own lightsaber. “Shall we begin?”

 

Orthas soared forward like a hawk, lightsaber screaming as it sliced through the air. But in a flash Siphon was gone, fled, back into the courtyard.

 

“Coward!” Orthas howled as he leaped after the false sith, hurtling past Siphon’s forces in pursuit. Siphon was already up the steps to the main entrance; Orthas yelled into his comlink: “She flees single combat! The truce is broken! Attack! Attack!”

 

Blaster fire exploded in a cacophonic chorus from behind him as both sides - for the second time that week - began an all out battle for the Keep.

 

Siphon paused as she reached the top of the steps leading into the Keep. “Don’t let Orthas’ forces get past the gate! Fight for your lives! Fight for your master!”

 

Then, the pretender beckoned to Siphon with a single finger before slipping through the towering marble doors to the Keep.

 

Rage disseminated through every cell of Orthas’ body.

 

He landed at the top of the steps leading to the main entrance. The marble doors had closed and they would not budge. Neither would they pose any obstacle to him.

 

Orthas summoned the Force, commanded it to his will, throwing his arms forward with all the considerable power he had mastered. The twin doors struggled for just a second - and then hurtled backwards as if made of paper, only to then crush two unfortunate guards with a muffled crunch.

 

Looking within, Orthas saw Siphon at the end of the great hall, saw her whirl around for just a second, the surprise visible in her body language if not on his masked face. For a moment, the false sith seemed uncertain of what to do; it took her a few seconds before she resumed her flight deeper into the stronghold.

 

Orthas smiled, the tendrils on his face quivering with excitement.

 

Siphon would meet her fate within the hour.

Edited February 27, 2016 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 14

 

“Now is your opportunity, Lord Rend! Lord Lethe! Strike down our enemy and prove to me your strength!”

 

Rend glanced to Lethe as their master retreated to the ritual chamber; her dark skin glistened with just a slight sheen of sweat. She nodded to him briefly and they both turned to face their enemy: Darth Orthas. In person, the pureblood appeared larger and more imposing. Rend could feel the power emanating off him in waves; he wondered if Lethe felt it too.

 

Most disturbing was the man’s cruel smile, the corners of his lips curled upwards in both anticipation and condescension. The deep red of the man’s skin stood in stark contrast to the pristine white of his teeth; Rend could tell that Orthas didn’t view them as a threat.

 

“I should have expected this from a pretender masquerading a title she has no right to bear. Sending children to face a master … I’m afraid you both will be sacrificing your lives for nothing.”

 

“Too much talking,” Lethe hissed, causing Rend to glance at her sharply in surprise. She grabbed at the air through the Force, toppling a massive statue of Tulak Hord downwards in an attempt to crush Orthas beneath it.

 

The pureblood was ready; he sidestepped the tumbling sculpture easily, then lunged past the statues of the Dark Lords, simultaneously pulling both Rend and Lethe towards him through the Force.

 

Rend screamed as he snapped himself out of Orthas’ manipulation, flipping backwards through the air to land just a few meters away from both Lethe and the pureblood. The exertion drained so much of his energy. The raw power Orthas commanded; it was greater than anything he had ever experienced, likely greater than even what Siphon could muster. Lethe couldn’t break free; Orthas’ grip on her seemed only to strengthen after Rend’s escape. With one hand, he slammed her body over and over into the walls, the floor, the ceiling.

 

Rend had to act before it was too late. Sparks burst from his hand and swirled into a torrent of violet lightning intent on incinerating the pureblood. Orthas reacted, releasing Lethe from his hold as he summoned a barrier from the Force. Rend watched as his lightning bolts slammed uselessly against the invisible shield, energy dissipating without effect.

 

“So, there is some skill after all. Not enough to match a true Sith, but sufficient to provide a few moments of entertainment.”

 

“Lethe!” shouted Rend. “Get up!”

 

Lord Lethe rose to her feet, battered and bruised, but Rend saw in her an expression he had never seen before: unadulterated fury. “I owe you pain.”

 

Her hand stretched and closed into a bitter fist; Rend screamed in pain, clutching at his face as the world seemed to explode in tremors all around him, the magnitude of Lethe’s attack reverberating throughout the great hall.

 

The pureblood only smiled. “ … pathetic.”

 

“Rend, help me silence this arrogant bastard!” shouted Lethe.

 

In that moment, despite the pain still coursing through his mind, Rend wanted nothing else but to put an end to Orthas once and for all. He bore down the agony, launched himself into a whirling spin, flung his still-unactivated lightsaber in an arc, and then fired two jolts of electricity at Orthas.

 

Orthas moved to slice Rend’s saber in half as it approached, but the two shots of lightning forced him to refocus attention; he sheathed himself in a barrier of static electricity, absorbing all of Rend’s attacks and then releasing a wild barrage of his own lightning to counter. Disarmed, Rend had to empower his steps with the Force in order to escape being electrocuted.

 

Where was their master’s battle meditation? Why hadn’t she begun the ritual?

 

Before Orthas could capitalize on his advantage on Rend, Lethe toppled a second enormous sculpture -this one of Darth Malak - from its foundation and then hurled it sideways towards the pureblood. Orthas leaped into the air to avoid its trajectory, then used the Force to pull himself back downward with incredible speed. In a flash, the pureblood caught up to Lethe on Siphon’s throne, a single hand outstretched to crush the woman’s windpipe.

 

As Lethe gasped for air, Rend mustered all his remaining strength. Scattered debris, broken pieces of stone, and jagged shards of metal and glass lifted themselves into the air through the Force, and then launched forward with terrifying speed. Orthas turned, releasing an unconscious Lethe from his grip, and then laughed.

 

“This is all you have left?” Orthas smiled with contemptuous amusement.

 

The pureblood didn’t even bother to cloak himself in the Force. The debris slammed into his body like pebbles on a beach of sand; ineffectual. Orthas didn’t even wince -- Rend didn’t expect him to, not until he revealed the last card he had to play. The last piece of broken statue hurtling towards Orthas hid Rend’s deactivated lightsaber.

 

Rend smiled back. “Eat this.”

 

Through the Force, Rend activated his lightsaber remotely, and watched as the crimson blade jetted forward through the stone, aimed straight at Orthas’ face. The pureblood sensed it only at the last second, saw the impending flood of brilliant scarlet light overwhelm everything else. Too late, too slow to block the surprise attack, Orthas could only dodge.

 

Rend sent a surge of power into the blade, blasted it forward with even greater speed, intent on ending Orthas once and for all. He watched as Orthas struggled to get away, throwing his head to the side as fast as he could -- too fast.

 

No. It can’t be.

 

The blade grazed the side of Orthas’ jaw, severing the pureblood tendrils on the right side of his face, but doing no fatal damage.

 

The pureblood screamed with unabashed rage. In a flash, he leaped to Rend’s position before Rend could act, could react, could respond. The pureblood shoved him downward onto the floor, and then slammed an open palm onto Rend’s chest. Instantly, Rend felt the Force surge into him … but this was no electricity, no lightning. This was raw power, raw Force, gripping at his heart. Tightening. Constricting. Crushing.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Where had Siphon gone? Why hadn’t he begun the Battle Meditation? This was supposed to be their victory; after everything Rend had given up, had sacrificed for his master … why wasn’t it enough?

 

Rend tried to throw Orthas off, tried to summon lightning to defend himself, but his strength failed him. Sparks swirled around his hand and then dissipated.

 

So this was a master of the dark side. A true Lord of the Sith.

 

Darth Orthas spat on his face. "Do you understand now? This is true power: the strength to overpower your enemies and the finesse to crush them with just the right amount of pressure. This is what comes with purity of blood. This is what you charlatans can never hope to achieve."

 

Where was Lethe? Where was Siphon? Why didn't they come?

 

Why was he alone?

 

Through the Force, Orthas stopped his heart.

 

Everything turned to black.

 

* * * * *

 

Orthas stood, rage only temporarily abated, the unmoving body before him drained of life. He turned back; the dark-skinned human apprentice was nowhere to be seen. No doubt she had fled in the wake of watching her companion slain so easily slain. No matter. She could be dealt with later.

 

His face stung with pain where his tendrils had been severed; the male apprentice’s blade had caught him by surprise. It was typical of the Pretender’s style, to employ tricks and deception over true power. Orthas cursed himself that he had not seen through the ruse from the very beginning; taking consolation from the fact that he would soon be ending Siphon’s line of training permanently, the pureblood Sith dusted himself off, tucked away his lightsaber, and followed the path he had watched Siphon take deeper into the Keep.

 

As he approached the doorway of what appeared to be a second hall, the sounds of fighting emanated forth from within. Orthas’ head suddenly throbbed with a dull ache; he ignored it, chalking it up to adrenaline and the exhilaration of battle, and indeed, it soon passed.

 

Orthas stepped into the doorway to a large, circular chamber. Enormous Imperial banners hung from high up in the ceiling to the floor in a smaller circle, surrounding a raised platform in the center. Sith artifacts and gushing fountains decorated the walls and open spaces.

 

Clashing in between the decor were Siphon and … the bounty hunter. What was he doing here? Shouts echoed back and forth between the two combatants as they flashed across the chamber in an intense lightsaber duel. He watched with curiosity; Orthas hadn’t known the bounty hunter had training in the saber forms. Pike almost moved with the skill and agility of a trained master. Almost.

 

“So it’s been you nipping at my heels all this time,” mused Siphon. “And I wondered why Rend and Andora had so much trouble with you.”

 

“This is the end for you, Siphon,” said Vandal Pike. “I will bring Orthas your head!”

 

Siphon’s tone remained indifferent. “Are you sure about that, Vestral? I suspect your new master won’t appreciate an upstart stealing his glory.”

 

Orthas had no idea who this Vestral was; neither did he care.

 

“I have no master,” Pike retorted. “I have only the blade. You took everything else away from me.”

 

“That’s right,” said Siphon. “You’re but a shadow of your former self. And what’s more, you’re blood is ‘impure.’ How far you’ve sunk, former apprentice. Orthas won’t accept you into his ranks as a Sith, so you’ve resorted to bounty hunting.” Lightning surged from her fingertips with terrifying precision; Pike brought up his lightsaber in defense only at the last moment. It was then that Pike saw Orthas had arrived.

 

“Orthas! Quickly, while I have Siphon occupied, strike her down!”

 

Orthas glanced between the two, one masked and one helmeted. They were the only ones present. Pike, Vestral - whatever his name was - it was clear he was the lesser of the combatants. Siphon countered the bounty hunter’s every move, every strike and slash as though she knew what Pike would do before even the bounty hunter did. On his own, Pike stood no chance against Siphon. Why the fool would take it upon himself to infiltrate the Keep and challenge Siphon to single combat … Orthas had no idea.

 

Neither did he care.

 

Siphon’s masked face turned to Orthas, waiting expectantly.

 

“What are you waiting for?!” screamed Pike. “Siphon can’t be trusted, she proved that when she abandoned the arena. This is your opportunity to eliminate her once and for all!”

 

“You’re right,” said Orthas.

 

He summoned a surge of crimson lightning, so powerful it crackled in his hand even as he coalesced the raw energy into physical form. Without a second glance at Siphon, Orthas arced the lightning straight into the bounty hunter’s helmet. Pike screamed in shock and agony as the surprise attack caused him to lose focus and drop his lightsaber; Siphon’s Force Lightning found its mark and wracked the bounty hunter, rippling waves of electrical energy into his body from head to toe. The sheer force behind the attack launched Pike into the air, slammed him ten meters up the opposite wall and held him in place for ten seconds before the bounty hunter’s body finally collapsed to the ground.

 

Still in shock, Pike could only mutter, “... w-why?”

 

Rage filled Orthas’ as the bounty hunter revealed the depths of his utter lack of understanding. “… I don’t need you to kill Siphon. I never did. You dared to try and steal this battle from me? You dared to speak to me as though we are the same?! You are no Sith, you are not even a pretender! You are a mongrel, a dog meant to obey the orders of superior beings. If you cannot even do that … I have no use for you.”

 

Pike moved no more. Orthas turned to face his true enemy.

 

“I tried to tell him.” Siphon laughed. How Orthas abhorred that laugh.

 

“So like the fool that you are, Siphon. Laughing in the face of imminent oblivion.”

 

“I think not, Darth Orthas. In fact, I’m afraid I must inform you that you just electrocuted the best hope you had to defeat me.”

 

“Cavalier until the end,” Orthas spat. “So be it.”

 

From within his robes, Orthas withdrew two lightsabers, one in each hand. Without activating them, he released the sabers from his grip, holding them in the air through the Force alone. As he withdrew his third and final lightsaber, he angled the floating blades into position around him, each taking a menacing stance.

 

Simultaneously, Orthas activated all the lightsabers; the chamber flooded with brilliant crimson light.

 

“So ends the reign of Darth Siphon.”

Edited October 17, 2015 by wangxiuming

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 15

 

Rend woke, choking and gasping for air. A hazy form hovered over him, hands pressed onto his chest - no doubt as part of his resuscitation. For a second, it looked like …

 

“ … Torio?”

 

“Tosin, it’s me.”

 

Hallie. Finally, his vision cleared and the great hall came back into view. He sat up slowly, Hallie moving back to give him some space.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Why haven’t you run?”

 

“I couldn’t just leave. Not without … not without finding out the reason Siphon turned on me. If there’s anything to find, it has to be here.”

 

Pain coursed through Rend’s body, sharp and unrelenting, as a violent cough overtook him.

 

“You’re in incredible danger,” said Rend, as he finally recovered. “I told Siphon you were dead. She expects you to be dead.”

 

“All the better. Nobody will be looking for me. And what better time to infiltrate and snoop around a secure facility than when it’s under attack?”

 

Rend shook his head. “You need to go. The last time I tried anything like this … it didn’t end well. You shouldn’t be here!”

 

“Hey, if I hadn’t snuck back in, you’d be the dead one alright? Lay off.”

 

She had a point.

 

“If you really want to thank me … maybe you could help?” asked Hallie. “I could use someone to watch my back.”

 

He shook his head. “I … I can’t, Hallie. I have to go help ou-- my master. Orthas’ power … I don’t know if even Siphon can ...”

 

“ -- you realize Siphon used you as a human shield, right? She never intended for you to win against Orthas; she just wanted you to buy time for her.”

 

“She’s my master. I sacrificed everything to become her disciple. I can’t just throw that away …”

 

“You’re nothing to her but a bag of meat! After everything she’s done, everything she did to me, to you, you --”

 

“She is my master. I cannot forsake her.”

 

Hallian let out an exasperated sigh. “She’s going to get you killed. And that’s if she doesn’t kill you herself. I’m not going to be around to bring you back from the dead all the time, you know that right?

 

Rend struggled to pick himself up, almost slipping a few times. “... she’s the only family I have left.”

 

Hallian didn’t answer for a long moment, merely watched as he righted himself against a piece of fallen statue. The pain had receded to a dull throb, but his breath still came in jittered gasps. HIs limbs felt enervated, drained by Orthas’ unrelenting attack; moving them took an enormous amount of both physical and mental focus. Rend prayed this feeling would subside by the time he reached his master.

 

Finally, Hallian spoke. “Why didn’t you kill me back at New Adasta? Why did you let me go?”

 

“You didn’t deserve to die,” he said simply.

 

She responded quietly. “I’m sure there were plenty who Siphon ordered you to kill that didn’t deserve to die. But you killed them anyway.”

 

Rend flashed back to Torio. To Yaraline. To that first family he had been dispatched to kill.

 

“ … what’s your point?”

 

“Only that you didn’t answer my question,” she said. “Why did you spare me when Siphon ordered you to kill me?”

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

 

“The truth.”

 

The word sparked something inside him, and he could not help himself from bursting out with emotion. “The truth? The truth?! I don’t know why! That’s the truth! Maybe it’s because it’s disgusting what we’re doing in this Kaggath, destroying ourselves even as we’re fighting a galactic war. Maybe it’s because I’m sick of killing the people I c-- … that I care about. Maybe I’m tired of being an executioner of our own people, a wheel that perpetuates the mistakes from Imperial history again and again, with every cycle, every turn, every conflict.”

 

The necessity for breath forced him to pause.

 

“Siphon is the one who is forcing the wheel,” said Hallie. “Don’t you see? If those are your reasons … can’t you see that she is the one leading you down that --?”

 

“She is my master! She is everything that I have strived for, sacrificed for, to achieve! I can’t abandon her now, not after everything I’ve done, the lives I’ve taken, the blood that stains my hands! If I leave her now, it would have all been for nothing.”

 

His outburst left Hallian speechless for a long minute. Instead, she walked forward to help him stabilize himself, offering one hand while placing the other on his back. Rend pushed her hand away, limping towards the ritual chamber. Hallian didn’t follow. It wasn’t until he had reached the exit to the great hall that she asked, “ … you really aren’t like any other Sith, are you?”

 

“Maybe Orthas is right. Maybe I am just a pretender. Playing at being Sith.”

 

Rend turned to face Hallian one last time.

 

“ Maybe … it’s all that I know.”

 

* * * * *

 

Alone with his mortal enemy in the ritual chamber of Twinspire Keep, Orthas watched as Siphon sliced one of his flying lightsabers in two. She switched deftly from the defensive Soresu into the aggressive Ataru, leaping towards him to close their gap, her own crimson blade poised to strike. Orthas countered with swift jabs of his blade in a variant of Makashi, forcing his opponent to redirect her attacks into parries. Simultaneously, he manipulated his remaining flying saber into position to slash at his opponent’s back.

 

She dropped into the diplomat’s stance, Niman - Orthas could tell from her arrogant poise that this was the form Siphon favored. A cocky chuckle emitted from behind her mask; the next moment, she unleashed a blast of Force to knock Orthas’ flying saber aside while flipping backwards to flee towards the central dais.

 

So, the impostor had some skill after all.

 

Not enough though. Not enough to defend against a true Sith.

 

Siphon kept trying to move towards the inner circle of the ritual chamber, doubtless so that she could seize some environmental advantage from her familiarity with the room, or hide behind the innumerable banners bearing the Imperial insignia that circled the central dais. Deception and treachery, that was all she knew. Nothing of true power. Nothing of what it meant to defeat, to conquer, to dominate.

 

Orthas wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t stand for it. He would purge the Empire of these heretics and leave only the worthy to stand. His disciples worried that what remained would not be enough to stand against the Republic. Such concerns were beneath the pureblood. If they were to die, they would die with honor, and glory, and the knowledge that they fought to the last as pure Sith.

 

Besides, the Empire could not claim victory over the Republic if it depended on alien hands to bring it to them, their foul stench tainting everything. Yet their leaders insisted on polluting the ranks, accepting mongrel and impure blood into what should have been reserved for only the mighty. The Dark Council was a circle of fools, all of them; Vowrawn in particular had betrayed all the pureblooded Sith in even entertaining the notion of associating with filth. That traitor would be the last step on Orthas’ ascent to purification.

 

The first would be Siphon.

 

Orthas directed his remaining flying saber with his free hand, spinning it through the air with marvelous alacrity. Simultaneously, he leaped forward to intercept Siphon’s path as she once again tried - and failed - to sneak behind the circle of banners that surrounded the central dais. She hissed from behind her mask, lightsaber brought upwards to meet the one in his hand at only the last second while sending a blast of electricity to throw the second blade off course and force it to careen into the wall behind her.

 

Laughter poured from his mouth even as they struggled to overpower the other. “Even your apprentice managed to at least graze me, Siphon. You seem only capable of running and hiding.”

 

She returned the emotion from behind her golden mask. “A ‘filthy mongrel’ managed to wound you? Are you losing your touch?”

 

Orthas didn’t bother to respond, instead slamming his heel into her torso with a vicious kick that knocked her backwards into the stone walls, causing her to grunt with pain and her lightsaber to fall from her grip. Cracks jutted out around her like a halo from her impact against the wall.

 

The true Sith didn’t give her a moment’s rest, flinging his lightsaber in a wide arc while simultaneously launching himself forward in pursuit, summoning the blade Siphon had redirected with a pull from the Force.

 

Just as he was about to impale her upon his blade, Siphon stole the lightsaber he had flung to sever her in two, forcibly redirecting it to parry his attack. A thunderous blast followed, crackling with electrical energy, billowing towards him. He cursed, twisting his body to redirect his trajectory downwards, landing on all fours.

 

Siphon cackled with mocking glee.

 

How he would make her pay. His only regret: that none would hear her dying screams as he snuffed out her life.

 

“You are a relic, Orthas! An anachronism that belongs in museums to be reflected upon with derision, as the enlightened mock the fool notions of their prehistoric ancestors. There is no such thing as purity of blood. There is only power! There is only victory!”

 

Siphon raised her hands up into the air. Lightning coalesced from above Orthas, bolts striking downwards, forming a static prison from which he saw no escape. Then, one by one, the bolts of lightning struck him in the chest, blasting away his lightsabers, sending surge after surge of power into his body, wracking him from head to toe. Siphon poured all of her strength into this singular attack, while laughter fell from her lips in psychotic waves.

 

The pain felt excruciating … but it only brought him more power.

 

Orthas screamed, letting loose a shockwave of Force energy amplified by his rage and agony, completely dissipating Siphon’s sorcery. It shattered all the windows in the chamber, sending torrents of glass shards careening to the ground and slammed Siphon backwards and downwards to the ground; a cry of shock and surprise replaced her cackling. Immediately, Orthas summoned from his boundless well of strength, seizing hold of Siphon through the Force, slamming her body into the ground over and over, lifting her into the air and then driving her back into cold stone. Again and again, until there was nothing but a battered pulp.

 

The sound of metal clattering against the stone floor pierced the cacophony of the Force in turbulence; Siphon’s mask had fallen from her face.

 

Orthas looked upon the visage of a female human, stray strands of wispy auburn hair draped over a sweat-covered visage. She was but a feeble pretender after all. She had no true power. She was done.

 

He had won.

 

His arm outstretched, Orthas lifted Siphon into the air one last time, watched as fear pierced her unmasked eyes as she felt her throat being crushed, the air drained from her lungs, the power - his power - choking the life from her.

 

The exhilaration was so intense, he almost didn’t feel something cold and metallic press against his back.

 

Crimson light erupted from his chest.

 

He didn’t understand at first what had happened; why he suddenly felt all his strength siphoned away, why he could no longer compel the Force to kill the woman he had defeated. The corpse that waited for its final rest. The Sith he had proven false. Why? Why did his power abandon him?

 

Orthas looked down. The brilliant red energy blade of a lightsaber jutted outwards from his chest, its hilt, nowhere to be seen. He gasped for air that did not come, drowning in confusion, watching as the battered Siphon slipped from his grasp and collapsed onto the ground.

 

The lightsaber in his chest withdrew into its hilt. Pain, searing, overwhelming, pierced his very core. He staggered forward and back, trying desperately to face his assassin.

 

Slowly, he turned.

 

Before him, a woman wearing a familiar golden mask, dressed in the same robes that Siphon herself wore. It was impossible … he glanced back to gaze upon the woman he had defeated. The golden mask still lay at her side, cracked from their battle.

 

But they were the same.

 

“You … you are Siphon? The real Siphon?”

 

Even her voice was identical. “No, Orthas. We are Darth Siphon. And you are defeated.”

 

“How?” The words choked from his lips. Why were they so hard to speak?

 

“Simple.” The woman removed her mask, revealing the same face that Orthas had uncovered moments ago … the same, save for the burn scars that covered her left cheek and forehead.

 

She smiled, wicked and with delight, pulling toughened and leathery skin into a cruel contortion.

 

“My sister warned you. Vestral was your best chance. Even then, it would not have been certain. I had masked my presence through the Force from the very beginning, you see. Vestral never knew our nature. So masterful am I at this art that even you were unable to detect me. And so while my valiant sister did battle … I waited for my opportunity to strike.”

 

She smiled, continuing. “While one Siphon occupied your attention … the other readied the noose around your neck.”

 

“… no. No. You are impostors … ” Orthas breathed. “You … you are no Sith. You have no right to defeat me! You have not the right!”

 

Siphon chuckled, cold as frost. “Haven’t you learned yet? There is more than one kind of power, my lord. I am so glad we were able to show it to you before you perished.”

 

With two fingers, Siphon made a tapping motion. Instantly, Orthas felt himself topple over, collapse to the ground, the last of his breath seeping away. More than the pain now, he felt something … a pit in his stomach. A tingling in his mind. Fear.

 

He was afraid.

 

Darkness devoured his vision slowly, swallowing everything in oblivion. His breath came slower and slower. Only the Force sustained him, and it too would soon abandon him. Part of him didn’t understand, didn’t comprehend, how this could be.

 

He had lost.

 

“So ends the reign of Darth Orthas. The fool that dared challenge Darth Siphon. May he be remembered for his folly.”

 

The last thing that Orthas saw was a solitary figure limp into the chamber.

[wangxiuming]

Chapter 16

 

Rend watched, stunned, as a second Siphon approached a fallen first, faces imperfect mirrors of each other: one battered and bloodied in recent battle, the other burned in time long past. It was the first time Rend had ever seen his master unmasked; never had he expected to see what he now saw. His eyes darted between the sight of his own master duplicated, Orthas’ corpse, and the unmoving form of Vandal Pike.

 

The second Siphon - the burn-touched one - gingerly helped the other to her feet.

 

“Lord Rend. You survived.” It was the battered form that spoke, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. As the words parted her lips, her sister glanced to Rend and then immediately jerked him forward through the Force, propelling him from the entrance into the chamber, stopping him only a few meters from Orthas’ body.

 

Still uncertain as to what had happened - what was even now happening - Rend struggled to comprehend and to bring thought to spoken words.

 

“You … you did it, my lord - lords. You defeated him. It’s done, the Kaggath is over!” For a second, glorious relief swept over him with the realization that this pyrrhic war was finally done. Elation engulfed him, the knowledge that he had emerged on the victorious side of this contest almost overwhelming his discovery that his master’s doppelganger stood before him unchallenged, uncontested.

 

Almost.

 

“Over? … no, my dear apprentice. Not quite.”

 

As the battered Siphon spoke, the marred one moved behind him in a slow circle. Rend’s jubilation turned to dread, a trepidation that propagated through his veins. The air smelled of blood; he could taste it on his tongue with every word he spoke, could sense it through the Force - a maelstrom of nihilism that came with the knowledge of one’s impending death.

 

Victory is a lie.

 

“Who … which of you is my master?” Rend asked.

 

They laughed together in unison, voices echoing against each other to fill the entire ritual chamber with an imperious harmony. “Darth Siphon is your master, apprentice. And we are Darth Siphon.”

 

“All along, you were sisters? Twins? How did you … how have none known the truth …?”

 

“What have I always told you, apprentice? Knowledge known only to the select few can be a key to unimaginable power.”

 

Comprehension dawned on him, finally, like a shock of rhime splashed across his face and left to frost over. “This is how you ascended to power. This has been the key to your rise, your victories against all your enemies … this is what Hallie stumbled across. This is why you ordered her execution.”

 

The Siphon behind him spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “ … secrets are powerful only when you are their sole keeper. Otherwise, they are a weakness to be exploited.”

 

The Siphon before him spoke, voice cold as ice. “Agent Quen overstepped her bounds. She still does, I suspect. I felt your death in the Force, and yet you stand here before me. You lied to me, apprentice. Who else but she would have bothered to save you? What was it you called her … ‘Hallie?’ … so it’s ‘Hallie’ now?”

 

“ … are you going to kill me?” Rend asked, his heart as hard as stone, too filled with disgust to let even an ounce of regret in. He did not regret his choice, not now. Not after this.

 

“What choice do you leave us, apprentice?”

 

“For this, you would slay your own followers?” asked Rend in disbelief. “Your agents, your apprentices? Is it really worth it to keep this secret at the cost of your power base?!”

 

The Siphon before him smiled. “We have already arranged for you to be replaced. Lord Astraad will support our bid to fold all of Orthas’ assets and followers into our own power structure. The rest of his disciples will fall in line.”

 

These were the ‘arrangements’ she had spoken of earlier. This was why she held no concern over whether Orthas’ disciples would submit to her victory.

 

It took a minute for Rend to recognize the expression with which both twins now gazed upon him: pity.

 

“I am sorry, apprentice. But you stumbled upon knowledge that was not yours to possess. You threaten the power of a great and terrible secret, one that we are not yet ready to forsake.”

 

“You lied to us. Over and over with your brother, and now Agent Quen. You have betrayed our trust.” The Siphon behind him spat with contempt. “The magnitude of how you have disappointed us - it is incomprehensible. After everything we’ve done for you … this is how you repay us?”

 

“Perhaps if you had done as you were commanded, if you had executed your duty, perhaps even had you revealed your failure … this day would not have to end this way.”

 

“We could have shared in the spoils of power, apprentice. You were always our favorite. Your potential surmounted the galaxy.”

 

“But you betrayed us. You betrayed your family, your only family, and for what? Mercy for a friend? A misguided obligation to conscience?”

 

Rend could not believe what he was hearing. The audacity. The arrogance. They dared to call him a traitor? After everything he had sacrificed? His soul, his true family! He abandoned Hallie to come here, to offer aid, to be a doting and loyal dog to its master, prepared to lay down its life in her defense.

 

For his trouble, Siphon sentenced him to death. Hallie had been right all along. How blind he had been. How foolish.

 

His master was not his family. She - they - had stolen that from him long, long ago.

 

No more.

 

“Have you any last words, apprentice?”

 

He did. “Yes. If these are to be my last, then let them be resounding and resolute. I disavow you. You are my master no more!”

 

Tosin twisted in place, arms stretching outwards in opposite directions, lightning surging forth to attack both Siphons with unmatched ferocity; so intense were the blasts that the energy shined neither blue nor violet, but white: pure and unadulterated, power at its most raw.

 

The Siphon behind him conjured an absorptive barrier that negated his attack, but he caught the one before him by surprise; weakened by her duel with Orthas, she couldn’t react in time to defend herself. The surge of lightning caught her square in the chest; her agonized scream pierced his ears in violent retribution until she collapsed to the floor.

 

“You dare strike at your master?!” The remaining Siphon howled her fury at her sister’s pain, quashing the remnants of Tosin’s attack with a savage motion of her hands.

 

“You call yourselves my master, but you are nothing but hypocrites! Liars! All this time, you have been sheltering each other, protecting each other while you make your disciples tear their families apart in the name of becoming Sith. All the while you hide behind your mask …”

 

“You think you know anything?! You think you have sacrificed?! We have paid the ultimate price! We offered up ourselves in pursuit of power, in pursuit of ascension! To realize our ambitions, we have become impostors to our own lives, pretenders to our own identities! But our sacrifice bore fruit because we dared to seize what we could take, achieve what others feared to accomplish! Siphon is a name feared because we had what it took to make it so! We won’t let an errant apprentice stand in our way.”

 

Siphon launched forward, lightsaber drawn and angled to bisect Tosin with a single decisive stroke.

 

Tosin was ready. Before Siphon’s blade could reach him, he flipped away and then empowered his steps to reach the central dais in the center of the ritual chamber. Quick as lightning, he darted behind one of the Imperial banners that hung low to the ground, and then calmed his breath so that he could focus on listening.

 

“You want to play games, apprentice? You do realize the cat always gets the mouse in the end!”

 

“I am not your apprentice!” Tosin screamed, leaping out to fire a jolt of electricity only to find nothing from where the sound of Siphon’s voice had emanated. Immediately, he ducked back into the central dais, hidden by the room-length banners; there was no one there but him - Siphon had to still be outside the circumference.

 

“Still the child. Still seeking to hide from punishment. Pathetic.”

 

Once more, Tosin leaped from his cover, launching a wave of Force outward meant to incapacitate his former master at the source of her voice. Once more, he found nothing and was forced to retreat into the enclosure.

 

This time, he scaled a banner itself to find advantage in elevation. At the apex, he compelled it to remain still through the Force, so as not to give his position away to Siphon. He listened. He waited for her to make a mistake.

 

The whirring buzz of lightsabers whirling through the air demanded his attention.

 

Tosin knew immediately Siphon had thrown them; they spun, end-to-end, all the while moving with incredible speed. One by one, they severed the tops of the banners surrounding the central dais; Tosin had no choice but to fall from his position, landing atop the dais on one bent knee as scarlet tapestries cascaded all around him like waterfalls of blood.

 

His eyes darted around the room in a 360 degree arc. Where was she? Where was Siphon?

 

He felt something cold and metallic press against his back.

 

No.

 

But then, it was gone, torn away from dealing the deathblow to deflect a volley of blaster fire so rapid it could only have come from an assault cannon.

 

Hallie. The agent strode forward into the chamber, assault cannon aimed squarely at the standing Siphon even as Tosin could tell Hallie was struggling to shoulder its weight.

 

“I heard everything! The open comlink I planted on you saved me a lot of trouble digging through archives. This ***** sure likes to hear herself talk, huh?”

 

His hand instinctively went to the back of his shoulder - the place she had touched him earlier - and felt the light and metallic device attached to his robes. “And here I thought you said you wouldn’t be around to save me all the time.”

 

Siphon shrieked with unmitigated rage. “You … you dare to spy on us?!”

 

Before Tosin could react, Siphon slammed him backwards, away from Hallie’s position. Then, infusing herself with the Force to move with unbelievable agility, she launched herself into the air, lightsaber held over her head ready to cut Hallie in two.

 

Hallian unleashed another volley of blaster bolts from her cannon, but -- too slow! The agent couldn’t bring her unwieldy weapon up fast enough to follow Siphon’s movement; the Darth’s blade was already moving downward; Tosin pushed himself forward with all his might, but even he could tell he was too far away. Too slow. He wouldn’t be able to reach --.

 

A second lightsaber activated, catching Siphon’s attack just in time.

 

Vandal Pike.

 

Tosin watched as the bounty hunter glanced between him and Hallie, their faces doubtless ones of disbelief and skepticism, before shrugging as much as he could while still fighting Siphon’s blade.

 

“The enemy of my enemy,” the bounty hunter said simply.

 

“You’ve risen from the dead for the last time, Vestral!” Siphon screamed her hatred, blasting Hallie aside while closing a fist around Pike’s throat through the Force. Tosin leaped forward, propelled by adrenaline, summoning one of Orthas’ fallen blades while still moving. It reached his palm and he closed his fist around it just as he himself reached Siphon; he swung the blade downwards to sever her arm, but she was too quick, jumping backwards so quickly, he only saw brief flashes of her body before she came to a stop atop the central dais, no longer hidden by any banners.

 

Tosin didn’t bother checking to see if Pike was alright. Instead, he sent a torrent of furious lightning towards his former master. Moments later, his lightning was joined by a flamethrower’s jet of ravenous fire and then by a hail of blaster bolts. Attacked on three fronts, Siphon could only summon the Force to cloak herself in a protective barrier -- but Tosin knew she would only be able to maintain it for so long. Even she could not resist them forever. Tosin, Hallian and Pike only needed to press their advantage.

 

Why then, did Siphon smile?

 

“About time.”

 

Crimson light erupted from Vandal Pike’s chest. He screamed involuntarily, then choked and gasped for air that could not fill a punctured lung.

 

From behind Pike, Siphon hissed. “We spared you once, Vestral … a mistake we now correct.”

 

Tosin’s mind raced. Three against one, and they might have stood a chance. With Pike down and Siphon’s twin in play once more, their chances faded with every second. They had to act now if they were to have any hope of surviving.

 

“Witness the futility of your struggle. Know your predetermined failure. Surrender, and we will make it quick.”

 

Something tugged at Tosin then, lightly, not strong enough to be from Siphon, but … something compelled him to look upon Pike once more. He wasn’t sure if it was from the Force at all, though it felt eerily similar; like an echo across a great hall, a shadow that beckoned even as its creator stood still.

 

Still impaled, Pike glanced down to the lightsaber still hanging from his belt. Then, he glanced back, past Siphon, to the walls behind them. Last, his eyes turned to Tosin, pleading for understanding.

 

Tosin nodded.

 

Pike lifted an armored boot. The Siphon behind him watched incredulously, unsuspecting of what was to happen. The bounty hunter activated the rocket boosts in his boots, immediately slamming into the Siphon behind him, crushing her against the wall, pinning her there as even as she scrambled desperately to free herself.

 

“Tanis!” The other Siphon screamed, trying to launch herself forward but Hallie unleashed another surge of blaster fire, forcing the Darth to refocus on self preservation.

 

Vandal Pike choked out his last words. “Now, you fools. Do it!”

 

Tosin didn’t wait. Through the Force, he unstrapped the lightsaber from Pike’s belt and then moved it into place swifty, right above Pike - and Siphon’s - chests. Through the Force, he unleashed the blade, piercing two hearts in one unstoppable motion. Siphon screamed, and then moved no more. Neither did Vandal Pike, his dying expression one of catharsis.

 

A shriek burst out from behind him. “NO!”

 

Tosin whirled around to face his remaining master, but before he could finish the motion, Siphon’s scream had swallowed the entire chamber in overwhelming turbulence, wracking the Force with hatred and rage. The Keep tremored, as parts of the already-weakened stronghold began to collapse. Window panes and support pillars crumbled around them, but it was all Tosin could do to remain conscious in the face of Siphon’s overpowering assault. He watched as Hallian crumpled to the ground. He watched the corpses of the dead Siphon and Vandal Pike keel over, the blade connecting their bodies deactivated and collapsed to the floor.

 

It couldn’t all end this way, not after everything, all the minor miracles that had kept them alive through everything over the last few months.

 

He didn’t feel fear. He wasn’t afraid, not anymore. He took consolation in the fact that he had taken from his Master what she - they - had taken from him all those years ago. In a small way, he had avenged Torio. He had earned his peace.

 

… But he wasn’t ready to embrace it.

 

Even as his knees buckled beneath him, brilliant sparks of lightning coalesced in his fingers; pushing his hands forward felt like trying to move a mountain, but the electrical energy arced outward towards Siphon nonetheless. At the last second, she caught the twin surges of lightning with a barrier, creating a shield through the Force with which to defend herself.

 

Tosin responded with renewed vigor, pouring more of his strength into his attack; adrenaline alone powered his efforts now as he felt himself weakening. The brilliance of the discharge magnified with blinding white light as the the tendrils of electricity enveloped Siphon’s barrier, clawing at it in effort to find a point of weakness. Tosin could feel Siphon’s defenses enervate against his barrage of indignation, could feel the barrier reach its limit, even as he felt himself hurtle ever closer to his own breaking point.

 

Just as they reached the precipice of their powers, Siphon suddenly reversed the flow of the Force around her. For just a second, Tosin’s electric discharge surged into her, filling the area with the smell of burnt flesh and her chilling wail. Even still, Siphon leveraged the momentum of the Force around her to send a spiraling shockwave outwards in all directions, repelling Tosin’s attack and sending him flying across the room.

 

He felt his back slam into the wall behind him. Pain screamed out from his muscles, his bones, his very core … but he was not done. The last of his strength threatened to leave him and still he recovered and leaped towards his former master. He watched as she did the same, expecting her to come at him, to strike at him, but to his surprise, she flew past him and towards her fallen sister. In a flash, she cradled her twin’s corpse in her arms.

 

Before Tosin could even think to object or move to intercept, both of them were gone, fled, escaped out the shattered windows of the ritual chamber.

 

Siphon had fled.

 

They won.

 

From outside, the battle raged on. He didn’t know where Siphon fled to, nor did he care. His only concern now was to get Hallie to safety. She had fallen, but Tosin saw her chest rise and fall. She was alive. Relief, pure relief, swept over him in that instant.

 

She stirred as he limped towards her, coughed heavily as they propped each other up and hobbled towards the back exit. They didn’t have much time. The general wouldn’t be able to hold off the invaders for much longer now. In their weakened state, they would be no match for anyone else. They needed to escape.

 

“Hurry,” Hallie whispered. “I can get us out of here. We just need to get to the southern exit.”

 

As they reached the south hall, Tosin took one last look around the chamber. A small part of him still felt as though he had abandoned his duty, even after everything that had just happened. Part of him felt his rightful place was still here in this room he had spent so much time in training, learning, being deceived … being manipulated.

 

He wondered if that would ever go away.

 

Something caught his eye, glinting in the light pouring in from shattered windows and broken walls. A single golden mask, cracked and chipped, lay beside Orthas’ body; it was all the twin Siphons had left behind. Their entire legacy.

 

Tosin turned away, still leaning on Hallie for support even as she did the same with him.

 

Together, they left without looking back.

 

End of Part Five

 

* * * * *

 

\\ All that's left is the epilogue! I'm still tweaking the epilogue to address some loose threads but should have that up sometime tomorrow. As always, thank you for reading!

Edited February 27, 2016 by wangxiuming